


In The Darkness

by JustRamblinOn



Series: Just A Survivor [6]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, PTSD, Past Abuse, Psychological Torture, past rape/non con, some good stuff too as always, this is Negan stuff though so brace yourselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-01-05 18:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 62
Words: 70,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18371441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustRamblinOn/pseuds/JustRamblinOn
Summary: Daryl's POV of 'Not Today, Not Tomorrow'part of the Just A Survivor Series





	1. Now I See

**Author's Note:**

> So there's so much that happens in this part that I'm trying to give you both the reader and Daryl's POVs at the same time
> 
> We'll see how well that works 
> 
> Titles are referencing the songs on Ben Howard's 'Burgh Island' EP again, since I've basically just accepted that that is Daryl's theme album for getting into his head space. Sorry not sorry.

He watched his girl up there on the car beside Rick, and he couldn't help himself. 

He was just so damn happy to have her back again. To have all of them back again- her, his brother's respect, Rick's trust. He got it all back, in the blink of an eye. As soon as he'd made things right with her, a few apologies here and there and it was forgotten. Like it'd never happened. 

But he wouldn't forget. 

He'd been closer than he fucking realized to losing everything he damn well cared about, all because he'd been an asshole and an idiot. 

Now his brother stood beside him while Rick talked the ears off the group of Alexandrians who were supposed to help them get these biters outta the quarry, and his girl stood up there, pretty as could be in the sunlight beside Rick. So Daryl tried to make her laugh or blush or both, because God he'd missed this. 

Missed them. 

Of course Merle knew what he was doing, and he muttered something to Daryl about leaving her alone, but Daryl just grinned. 

Life was pretty damn good from where he stood, couple thousand walkers in the quarry be damned. 

 

Of course, then they ended up having to do it right then, and his girl was tellin' him to be careful and calling him an asshole, but she kissed his cheek and left him to his job. 

He knew she was worried. They'd had what anybody else'd probably call an argument over his role in this one, but since they'd never started screaming and only one of them had been pacing at a time, it hardly qualified as a Dixon discussion. 

As Merle'd put it, it was just a 'difference of opinions'. 

His girl was worried about him leading the walkers out on his bike, and she'd argued that he shouldn't be that close to them an exposed. When he'd countered with the fact that his bike was loudest and would attract the most attention- while also providing the fastest get away option- she'd up and switched tactics on him. 

If it was the best option, fine, but why'd he have to go alone? 

He'd nearly walked into that trap, because he agreed with her. Having someone else on the back of the bike with him would have provided some extra security and was actually a totally reasonable request. 

But he'd stayed firm that he'd be fine on his own, said Sasha and Abraham were gonna be there in the car, because he knew that look in her eyes. If he said he'd take someone else, she'd be on the back of his bike and glaring at him until he let her come along. 

And he knew she needed to stay where she could be in charge; coordinate. 

When Merle told her to get her ass back home and protect Alexandria, let them know they were doin' it now and to stay out of the woods, he gave his brother a grateful look and a nod. 

Merle clapped him on the back, once, as he left, and then his girl kissed his cheek and was off, and Daryl was alone.


	2. Places on My Own

It was easy enough to start with, just being head asshole at the parade. He got 'em turned at orange; knew his girl was there helping with that. 

She was supposed to break off and head home somewhere around green. That was the plan, and he knew if anything happened, Rick or Glenn or someone with a radio would let him know. 

She'd refused one, said she wouldn't need it for her part- she'd be with Rick until she split off and went back, and she could handle anything herself between green and Alexandria. 

Daryl knew she was right, but it didn't stop him from worrying. 

He listened to the chatter over the radio as he kept going, cruising in front of the ugly bastards. He knew the tone of Rick's voice when he declared that 'we' had stopped Carter's screaming. That meant his girl had handled it, probably without even blinking. 

Daryl was worried about that casual violence she seemed to radiate these days. It made him fear for her safety less- she could handle just about anything that came her way these days- but... 

It just wasn't like her. 

And then some goddamn air horn started blaring, coming from home, and his heart stopped. 

 

"Rick!" he called into the radio, desperate. "What's goin' on back there?" 

"Half of them broke off; they're heading toward Alexandria." 

Home. They're heading toward home, where something was already fucked up for that damn horn to be blaring, and now the back half of these rotting bastards was heading toward his girl. 

"I'm gonna gas it up, turn back," he snarled into the radio, but Rick said no. 

"We have it. You keep going." 

"Rick, she's-" 

"I know. She's got it, though. We gotta keep the herd moving, Daryl." 

"Not if it's goin' down, we don't," he snapped back, torn between doing what he was told, doing his job and protecting all of them, and doing his job and protecting her. 

"The rest of that herd gets turned around? The bad back there only gets worse! Daryl?" 

He hated this. Hated himself for being unsure, hated that he was going to leave her alone to deal with all of this shit for awhile while he sat here on his damn bike and drove, heart in his throat. He'd left her alone too damn much lately.

"Yeah, I heard ya."

 

Five miles out was gonna have to be good enough. He couldn't do this another fifteen, damn it.

Sasha and Abraham argued with him. 

He needed to turn around and get back home. That's where his girl was, back home. Didn't they know that? Didn't they get it? 

Abraham was giving him a long look, one that held pity and understanding, but they weren't going to turn around. 

"If you want to go, we can't stop you," Sasha said, voice firm. "But without you, they could stop us." 

He hated her a little right then. But he had to- he had to get home. There wasn't any other option for him. 

"Nah," he yelled into the car. "I got faith in ya."


	3. Black Sea

He had to know what was going on at home. Had to. 

His girl was there. His brother was out there. He had to get back. They'd just have to see that. 

Sasha and Abraham could handle the rest of the herd. They were far enough out that they should be able to keep the fuckers' attention with just the car and shit. 

The radio crackled. "Daryl?" 

Rick's voice, and he pulled one hand off the bike as he flew. "Yeah, I'm here." 

"Won't be long now. They're almost here. I'll get them going your way again." 

Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch! 

"How 'bout that, Daryl?" Sasha voice was sharp and pointed, and he made a face at nothing. "He's gonna be comin' our way." 

Fuck it. Guilt stabbed at him, knowing Rick was going to be leading off the back end alone in the RV, and he'd abandoned post to head home- 

Rick's kids were there. His son, his baby girl. And Rick was still doin' his damn job. Unlike Daryl. 

Son of a bitch! 

Then there was something over the radio, and Rick wasn't responding- 

Fuckin' shit. Goddamn it! He gunned the engine and moved faster. 

 

He fell back into place with Sasha and Abraham, and they- thankfully- didn't say anything. Just gave him an nod and a smile, and they kept on their plodding way. 

He did his goddamn job, even as it killed him. 

Rick never joined them, never came back over the radio. The ass half of the herd wasn't with them, but they still had enough of the dead motherfuckers to do serious damage to Alexandria if they were back. 

So they stuck with it, slow but steady, and he tried to calm the roaring edge of fear in his mind about just what the hell had gone down back home. 

"Alright," Sasha's voice crackled over his radio. 

"That's 20?" 

"It will be. 642 is a mile ahead. We gotta put distance between us and them before the turnoff." 

"All right. Try to keep up," he said grimly. 

"Daryl, have you looked at this car?" Sasha asked dryly, and he cracked a grin at that. "Believe me, we wanna get back there too." 

Not as badly as he did. 

 

Of course it wasn't going to be that easy.

They were hauling ass, and then all the sudden someone and their seventeen brothers were shootin' at them, and Daryl was crashing the bike and tearing up his arm as he slid along the road and he was separated from Sasha and Abraham. 

He could hear his girl's voice in his ear, just muttering 'shit, shit, shit' over and over the way she did when they got ass-deep in it. The thought made him smile a little before he remembered that now he was ass deep in it here and she was probably ass deep in something else back home. 

He did not have time for this, damn it all. 

He wrestled the bike upright and was moving again, with some pricks in a car right behind him and shooting at him, and he just wanted to know where the hell these guys'd come from. 

He shot around a corner and was ducking walkers, weaving in between them and trying to keep the bike upright and moving. One of the cars tailing him wrecked, but the other made it through, and he had to keep going, had to leave Sasha and Abraham back there alone. What the hell was happening around here today? 

 

He got far enough ahead of 'em to take to the trees, and he let out a breath as they blew past on the road he'd been following. He went on a little further, but he could feel himself losing blood and he needed to stop, patch himself up, and figure out how to get back and collect the other two before bookin' it back home. 

If there were assholes out here setting ambushes for people, Alexandria had to be warned. They'd probably be making their way to home next, and he knew his girl couldn't stand to see another place burn. 

It'd break her completely. 

He finally came to stop and let the bike fall, collapsing beside it and trying to catch his breath. 

Where the hell was he? Everything was black and burned, and there was a walker in a damn biker's helmet whose body was basically ash. 

His girl would have made some smart comment about that not being ominous at all, but he just laid down, out of energy and out of drive for the moment. 

Just for the moment.


	4. Bite My Tongue

There was static on the radio and blood dripping from his fingers. He pulled off the half-glove, breathing hard through his nose against the pain, and then stripped off his jacket as well so he could get a look at the damage. 

Worse than he wanted, but better'n he expected, honestly.

He heard the movement in the trees, and he did not have time for this, damn it. His girl was up shit creek and waiting for him and Sasha and Abraham to arrive with the paddles. He had to get back to her. 

He had to. 

 

He woke up beside a fire, his head groggy as he tried to figure out what the fuck had happened. He'd been checking the underbrush, trying to find the source of that rustling so he could be on his way without leading whoever'd ambushed him and the other two straight back home when- 

Oh yeah. He'd found the two girls, and then the asshole carving something beside the fire had clocked him over the head with a branch. 

Panic closed in when he realized it was dark, and that meant he'd left his girl to deal with shitshow back home for an entire day, and he still had to get away from these bastards, find Sasha'n'Abraham, and get all the way back home. 

He felt himself blacking out again as the asshole stuffed his crossbow into their bag. 

 

His hands were tied and it was morning. 

It was morning, goddamn it- now his girl'd been alone for a day and a night! 

His head knew she wasn't alone; that there'd been others in Alexandria still- Carol, Carl, Rosita, Tara- and that Rick and Michonne and Glenn and his brother would have hauled ass to help as soon as whatever Rick's plan to get the walkers back on track had been had failed. 

But he couldn't help it. He heard the horn in his head, echoing in the distance, and saw the swarm of those rotting bastards heading toward Alexandria, and in his mind, she was alone. All alone, and he was tied up by some clown who was holding his own gun on him and making him hike through the burned out trees. 

Fucking son of a bitch, he had places to be. Didn't these asshole get that? 

They were talking about the burn, how they'd done it at the beginning before falling in with the wrong people. Talkin' about how they'd been stupid. 

"Y'all don't think you're being stupid right now?" he asked, and the asshole pulled his own gun on him again. 

"You sayin' I should kill you? You gonna try pulling something on us?" Guy was goin' on about him choosing to kill for three squares and a roof and Daryl had no fuckin' idea what that meant, but he knew the look in the guy's eye as he asked if he was being stupid by not pulling the trigger right then. 

"No," Daryl said finally. "Look, I got somewhere important to be. We can make a deal. I can help you out." He'd have said anything if it would get him to his girl faster, but if what he could figure out of these guys was anywhere close to right, he could actually help them. Rick and Alexandria could actually help them. 

But the asshole wasn't in the mood to listen, and Daryl wasn't about to let him know about Alexandria unless he was certain of them, so he kept his mouth shut and kept walking, waiting for his chance. 

 

He took it when it came, and he hauled ass away from them with the damn duffel that they'd shoved his crossbow in. 

He had a close encounter with one of the dead as he tried to raise Sasha and Abraham or Rick- anyone- on the fuckin' radio, and when he wrestled his crossbow out, he saw the cooler. 

Son of a bitch. Insulin. The blonde with the short hair had been off; the other two'd been protective. 

She was a diabetic. 

Fuckin' hell, he didn't need this! He needed to get back to his girl, his home, his friends!

But he couldn't just leave; couldn't leave the girl out there with nothin' when he could take the medical stuff back to 'em and maybe save her life. 

Damn it all, he was tired, his arm and his head hurt, and he needed to get home.


	5. On the Way to Go

But he went back. He couldn't not. 

He was pissed, so after he got the gun back he asked for something in exchange for the duffel. He knew these poor bastards didn't have anything between them, but they'd put him through too much shit. 

It was the principle of the thing. 

He took the man's carving and called it even, heading back through the woods to get the hell back to his bike and on the road, goddamn it, when he heard the truck and the voices. 

Fuck it all! 

 

Against his own better judgement, he gave the guy his gun back. 

His girl would've told him that was his first mistake. 

Or hell, maybe his second, with taking the duffel back being the first. 

Then he tried to help them, even getting them to their destination and helping them bury their friend when she pulled some dumbass shit and got herself bitten. So it'd all been for nothin', this delay and this damn trouble, since the woman who'd needed the insulin was now dead. 

He took 'em back to where he'd stashed his bike and was making a plan when he heard the gun click. 

"Oh, damn it," he muttered.

Mistake number three, his girl's voice whispered in his ear, with that perfect half-pissed, half-amused inflection. 

"We're sorry," the woman said as she climbed on the back of his bike with the asshole and started to drive off. 

"You're gonna be," he answered, voice hard. 

 

The hell was he supposed to do now? He still had to find Sasha and Abraham, and it'd been a full day since they'd been split up. Fuck, two of them might have made their way back to Alexandria by now and left him. 

He wouldn't even blame 'em; in fact, he'd have been grateful. At least somebody'd made it back there to give his girl a hand. 

But he didn't know if that's what they'd done; he didn't even know if they'd made it out of ambush in tact. So he had to backtrack; had to find out. 

He had no bike, no weapons since they'd taken his damn crossbow as well as the gun, no supplies or nothin', and only a vague idea of what direction to go. 

And his arm was still bleeding. 

 

He made it back to the burned up walker with the bike helmet. 

His girl'd've been right- it had been fuckin' ominous. Damn it. 

He stared down at it, wondering if it was a sign. If that was where he was goin' if he kept up like this- just another dead son of a bitch lost in the trees, unable to get back to what mattered. 

Then he saw it, on the ground- the oil company logo. In ground tank. 

He was thinkin' about those asshole's story, how they'd opened the valve on the tank and hidden the truck and dropped a match, and boom. Burned up walkers, burned up woods. 

Maybe- 

Naw, couldn't be. That would mean he'd have something better than shit for luck on this trip. 

But son of a bitch, there it was. Hidden behind some branches, and only one walker in the seat. At least those assholes had left him the goddamn knife, and now he had a ride. 

Time to find his friends and get his ass home to his girl.


	6. Beneath the Wheels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> references to past child abuse  
> references to past alcoholism/drug addiction

They'd survived, and waited for him to come rescue their asses first, and Abraham had picked himself up some damn dress blues from somewhere. Daryl didn't really give a shit, but they reminded him of the one time he'd seen his brother in uniform- the day he came home. 

Daryl'd been a twenty-two year old grease monkey at the local shop, workin' on cars and bikes and trying to keep his dad out of prison or a ditch on the side of the road. Why, he didn't know. Just that he was. 

He hadn't seen or heard shit from his brother in four years, since the day he turned eighteen. Merle'd called him- first time since he'd left home- and told him happy birthday, and now he could get the hell away from their old man. Daryl'd been pissed and hurting- their daddy'd been drunk as shit the night before and Daryl'd had to step into the middle of a goddamn bar brawl and rescue his ass before the cops came, and four burly rednecks against one punk ass eighteen year old wasn't odds that'd done his body any favors- and he'd told Merle to fuck off, that he and their daddy were just fine and Merle could suck his dick for all he cared. 

After all, his brother'd just up and left him one day when he was just a kid. 

Then four years later, he'd been hauling his exhausted self out of his truck, coveralls tied around his hips and grease everywhere, when he'd heard a horn honking behind him. He turned to look a little too fast, catching the broken ribs he'd gotten as thanks for bailing his daddy's ass out of the drunk tank at two am the night before. 

Swinging off a bike was some asshole with a shaved head and army fatigues, combat boots hitting the ground and sunlight gleaming off some pretentious sunglasses and a shit eating grin on his face. 

"Well, hell, baby brother! You grew the fuck up, didn't ya?" 

Daryl'd stared as the asshole'd pulled the sunglasses off, tucked them into his half-undone uniform shirt, and smirked at him. 

"Merle?" 

 

He tried the radio while they drove, every few miles checking it again. It was always static, damn it, and he was getting increasingly frantic as he pushed the fuel truck as fast as it would go. 

"Rick, you copy?" he tried again. "Anybody?"

There was something, some garbled voice under all the static, and he felt his heart start to pound. "Say it again?" he snapped into the radio, and waited, not even breathing. 

"Help..." 

Son of a bitch! 

 

He had to get home. Had to. 

Someone'd finally answered the radio and all they said was help? What the hell was goin' down there? 

"Daryl," Sasha said, voice tight. 

"Yeah, I see." 

What fresh fuckery was this? He practically heard his girl's snarl in his ears, and he wondered if he was going crazy, hearing her voice so strongly, or if it was just because she was such a part of him. 

"What in the holy shit?" Abraham muttered.

There were bikes stretched across the road, and he ground his teeth as he had to ease to a stop. There were at least eight of them, and unless he wanted to try bowling them over while they shot at him, he had to stop. 

"Why don't you come on out? Join us in the road?" One asshole was standing by his bike, leaning against the handlebars as he talked, and damn if this didn't look familiar. 

 

Daryl'd been beaten up by a biker gang or three before, and accept for the guns, he'd once been an unwilling part of this exact setup. 

It'd been Merle's fault, as most things were, and Daryl'd been the one to end up with a broken arm, a broken nose, one eye swollen shut, and the respect of all of his brother's asshole friends when it was all said and done. 

His brother'd been kicked out of the gang anyway with the heavy suggestion that he find himself another place to park his bike, and Daryl'd lost his job for beating on two of his boss's best customers at the garage, but Merle'd been allowed to keep his bike and his vest because Daryl'd stepped the hell up and held his own in the beat down. 

Funny how that had worked out.


	7. Grave to Dig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence

Now Daryl slammed the truck into park and cut the engine with a sigh. 

This prick wasn't near as scary as the head asshole in his brother's gang, but he did have the guns. If Daryl'd been alone, he might have taken his chances anyway. But he wouldn't risk Sasha and Abraham. Not like this. 

"That's great," the guy said in a fake cheerful voice. "It's goin' well right out of the gate. Now step two- hand over your weapons." 

"Why should we?" Daryl growled. 

"Well, they're not yours," prick said, and it was Abraham who asked the question in Daryl's mind. 

"What?" 

"See... your weapons, your truck, the fuel in your truck, if you got mints in your glove compartment, if you got porn underneath the seats, change in the seats, hell- the seats themselves, the floor mats, your maps, the little stash of emergency napkins you got there in the console- none of those things are yours anymore." 

"Whose are they?" Sasha asked. 

"Your property now belongs to Negan," the prick said, and all Daryl wondered was who the fuck is Negan? 

And how fast could Daryl kill him and be on his way home? 

 

"If you can get your hands on a tanker, you're people our person wants to know," the prick continued. Did he ever shut up? 

Daryl thought about it. He did. But the others all had their guns out and ready, and he wouldn't have time to pull the gun Sasha'd handed him when he picked the two of them up, aim, and take down all of them before someone got hit. 

Son of a bitch! He just wanted to get home!

He handed over the handgun and Sasha and Abraham did the same, and the prick smirked at them and walked back toward his bike. 

"Who are you people?" Sasha asked, and Daryl didn't give a good damn. 

"I get the curiosity, but we have questions ourselves. And we'll be the ones asking them while we drive you back to where ever you good folks call home. Take a gander at where you hang your hats." 

Like shit was he taking these fools anywhere near his girl or Carl or Judith. Over his dead fuckin' body. 

"First, though, your shit. What have you got for us?" 

"Yeah, you just took it," he snarled, tired of the games. They could have anything they damn well wanted if they'd let him get back on the road, but now that he knew they wanted to find home? He needed to get on with killin' 'em, and that meant getting out from in front of all these damn guns. 

"Come on. I mean, can we not?" head prick was saying, and everything about the guy made Daryl wanna drive his fist into the guy's face. "There's always more." 

He sighed and straddled his bike. "T, take my man to the back of the truck. Start at the back bumper and work your way to the front. Bite, chew, swallow, repeat." 

 

Daryl was shoved along in front of the guy, and that was fine. He'd wanted a chance, this was it. One asshole between him and his girl? Poor bastard didn't have a chance. 

Took Daryl just a little too long, though, and the bastard got in a good slice on his shoulder. 

Cut his goddamn vest. His brother'd have somethin' to say about that when he got home. 

The launcher was good, though, and blowing those assholes into next week was downright satisfying. 

"Son of a bitch was tougher'n he looked," he offered as Sasha and Abraham stared at him. "What a bunch of assholes," he muttered. 

Sasha slapped a rag on his back. "Let's get you fixed up at home," she said with a grin. 

"Yes, ma'am."


	8. Gave Me Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence

Home was in worse shape than they'd expected; goddamn walkers all over the goddamn place and the fucking tower having taken out part of the wall. Nobody at the gates when he pulled up, but he could see Maggie and that girl Carl'd been hanging out with and askin' him for advice about- like Daryl knew a damn thing about gettin' a girl; hell, he'd just picked his up off the side of the road and she'd called him an asshole, not exactly the stuff of a Casanova- on the platform looking panicked. 

Sasha and Abraham got out, climbed on the truck, and up onto the outer walk. They'd made a quick pit stop to raid one of his girl's gun drops, and now they were all feeling a hell of a lot better armed. He could hear Maggie screaming Glenn's name, and he hoped to fuck Abraham and Sasha could get there fast enough. 

They must have, 'cause they lit the place up and then Abraham was screaming at Glenn to get the gate and laughing. 

Daryl pulled the tanker in and stopped it under Maggie and the others, and Glenn came walking over, looking lost. 

"What the hell happened?" Daryl snapped at him while the others climbed on top of the truck and Glenn hopped in the passenger seat. 

"I don't know, I just got back," Glenn shot back. "Listen-" 

Daryl turned to look at him and something passed over Glenn's face. 

"We can- we can lead some of them away, but they're scattered," he continued, and Daryl knew that wasn't what he'd been planning on saying, not at first. 

But his girl was in there somewhere, probably fighting these rotting bastards, and he didn't have time for whatever it was Glenn hadn't said. "No, we get 'em all together. Won't have to lead 'em away." 

He slapped the roof twice, got two slaps in return, and they were off. 

Glenn and the others covered his back and he opened up the valve on the tanker, letting all that fuel just run into the damn pond at the center of town. Then he climbed up onto the roof while everyone else piled into the truck and pulled it forward, and- 

He could see his girl grinning at him as he lifted the launcher, could hear her voice in his ear telling him this was the fun part. 

She better fuckin' still be alive, he thought grimly as he pulled the trigger, and the world lit up like midday. 

Or like the hell that it was. 

 

He stood there, admiring his work, while the others stayed in the tanker as the walkers started for the lake, drawn by the light. 

Then he heard her voice, heard her screaming his name as the sounds of battle drew close, and he spun around, and there she was. 

She was covered in blood and guts and black rotten shit, leading the charge forward with Rick and Michonne at her heels and the others following close behind, and she was laughing- laughing- as she spun and danced and stabbed her way through the walkers between them. 

He dropped the launcher and tossed himself from the back of the truck, scooping her up and pressing his face into her neck as she jumped into his arms and cracked some goddamn joke. 

Finally. Finally. 

He wasn't fuckin' leaving her again. 

He said that every damn time, but life and their own goddamn skills kept making him a liar.

Her legs were locked around his hips and he held her up and stared into her face, searching to make sure she was ok. Aside from the blood that soaked her every damn where, she was just grinning at him, her eyes dancing as she ran her fingers through his hair, and the vice that'd been squeezing his heart since he heard that damn horn was finally relaxing. 

"What the hell you been doin' while I was gone, woman? Haven't we told ya about throwin' these damn parties without us?" he said finally, relief making him crack a joke more like his brother woulda made, and the way she laughed made him glad he had. 

"Sorry, Dixon. I just can't help it. When the mood to party hits, I just have to cut loose," she teased back, and then something behind her caught her eye. 

The smile was gone in a flash, the laughter draining out of her as she dropped from his arms. 

He kept one arm around her and turned to see what it was, heart pounding at the look in her eyes. 

It was Rick, and he looked as fuckin' wrecked as she did, and she was asking if he'd heard anything. Someone was hurt, and Daryl didn't know who, but from the way the two of them looked- 

No, not Carl. Not the kid. 

 

She told him what happened in a low voice as the two of them jogged back through the streets behind Rick and Michonne. 

That asshole kid had shot him. He'd fucking shot Carl in the face, and his girl had killed the kid, no hesitation. In the middle of this massive herd of walkers. 

Daryl'd thought fear was not knowing what was going on. He was wrong. 

Knowing what had happened, what could have happened- that was worse.


	9. Death Moves Amongst Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> injured child  
> brief mention of past rape/non con  
> mention of past miscarriage/ pregnancy loss  
> major character death

Carl was a tough kid. 

Daryl pushed down the fear clenching around his heart so he could be there for Rick, for his girl. Rick was holdin' on by a thread, and his girl wasn't much better. Daryl could see it in her eyes as she stared at Carl's unconscious form, bandage over one eye. 

She was trying to hold it together, for Rick's sake. She leaned over the kid, brushing her hand over his hair, and kissed his forehead, then whispered something in his ear. Then she was standing, and Daryl saw the raw, terrified pain in her eyes for a brief second- just a flash- before she shoved it down and turned to Rick. 

Rick was as coated in blood and shit as she was, and she touched his friend's shoulder and then threw her arms around him, curling over him as he sat holding Carl's hand. She didn't say anything to him about Carl, just called him Cowboy and told he she was going to come back in an hour and make him shower and eat, and Rick leaned into her hug without taking his eyes off his kid. 

But Daryl saw the look on Rick's face, knew that even if he couldn't say it, his friend was grateful to her for the comfort. 

Then she was stepping back toward him, where he stood in the doorway, and as soon as she looked at him she started to cry. He grabbed her hand as she reached for him blindly, pulling her into his chest as he hastily drew the door shut. He just held her while she cried into him, and he tried not to himself, and ran his hand over her hair. 

It was starting to harden as the walker blood dried in it. She really was a mess, and she needed to get cleaned up. 

He was informing her of that when the doctor's voice told him he needed stitches in his shoulder, and his girl was giving him that pissed off 'what the hell, Dixon' face, and he was smiling. 

He'd made it home. 

 

The doc looked at his arm and his shoulder and cleaned them up while his girl bitched at him about letting people know when he was hurt, and he just let her. He could see the worry behind her words, and knew bitching at him to take care of himself was her way of trying to get some control, since she couldn't do anything at all to help Carl. 

His girl loved that kid like he was her own, and with losing their baby a few months before, Carl might be the only kid the two of them ever had. Daryl loved the kid just as much as she did, and had been looking out for him even longer than she had. 

He remembered the first time he'd spoken to Carl, way back at the camp in the quarry. Merle was still an asshole then, and hell, so was Daryl probably. He and his brother'd been planning to rob them, 'till Daryl saw the kids. 

Wasn't no way he was gonna steal from a bunch of people just tryin' to keep some damn kids alive. 

He'd been out in the woods all day, trying to get away from Merle's bullshit and from all the people, and he was coming back with a deer for the camp, when he heard a whole bunch of noise in the brush. He'd dropped the deer and swung his crossbow around, and waited, one foot on the buck. 

When the kid had come sneaking out from behind a tree, Daryl'd almost shot before he caught himself. 

"Son of a bitch, kid! The hell're ya doin', tryin' to get yourself killed? Why you out this far?" he yelled, and Carl had just shrugged mutely. 

"Where's ya mom?" Daryl growled as he shoved the crossbow back onto his back and grabbed the deer and swung it back over his shoulder. The hooves had been hitting him in the ass as he walked, and he gestured impatiently for Carl to come with him. Carl had sighed like it was the end of the goddamn world, but settled into place. 

"I dunno. Left with Shane awhile ago. I can't find them," he finally answered, and Daryl grunted. Kid probably didn't want to find them anyway, since Daryl'd come across Lori and Shane in the woods together once himself, and hell- he hadn't wanted to see or know that shit, man. 

"You know how to use that knife?" Daryl'd asked with a nod to the knife sheathed on Carl's belt. Kid had shrugged, and Daryl'd grunted. "Help me skin this deer when we get back, if ya wanna. Teach you a few things," he'd offered, and the kid'd grinned up at him. 

 

Now their people drifted in and out of the infirmary, some to get checked out by the doc and some just to see about Carl. 

His girl had a smile and joke and a thank you for all of them, and they all had a hug or a touch on the shoulder or just a kind word for her as well, and Daryl knew he'd need to get the full story from someone besides her if he wanted to know just how much shit she'd really handled here. 

When Glenn and Maggie walked in together, his girl's face lit up, and he realized she hadn't known he was there. 

"Speed Racer!" she called, and there was so much joy in her voice, he wondered what he was missing. She ran to him and grabbed him in a hug, and he hugged her back, but- 

Daryl followed, Denise finally letting him go with instructions to keep his arm clean, and there was something wrong. Glenn wasn't meeting his girl's gaze or his, and he watched his girl go pale as Maggie stepped away from the two of them. 

"Glenn?" Her voice was a whisper, and he'd never heard that tone from her before. "Glenn, where's- where's-" 

Daryl had his hand on her back when Glenn met her eyes and then his, and all the sudden he realized who he hadn't seen yet. 

Merle. 

Where was his brother? 

"No, no, no, no, no!" His girl screamed out the last one and lunged at Glenn, who just stayed where he was, eyes on the ground. 

Daryl didn't know what happened, but Glenn didn't deserve his girl coming at him, and she'd hate herself for it later if she did, so he caught her around the waist before she could reach him. 

The whole room was silent now, and Daryl could see Michonne with her hands pressed to her mouth out of the corner of his eye, her eyes full of tears. Glenn was talking, his hand on his girl's arm, forcing her to look him in the eye. 

"Daryl. YN. I don't know where he is. I don't know if he's dead. I don't. You have to listen to me, ok?" Glenn's voice was tired and sad, and Daryl didn't know- 

He didn't know what to think. He just needed to know where his brother was, and he needed to not fall apart. Not here, not in front of all these eyes and with his girl near boneless in his arms. 

"Where's my brother?" he finally said, and his girl grabbed his hand and squeezed, and he gripped back, hoping maybe they could both just get enough from each other right here to keep it together. 

They had to keep it together. 

Glenn started to stall, to have them go outside, but his girl snapped at him, and finally, he started to talk. 

Daryl couldn't- he heard the words, heard the story, about them getting split off, and trying to start a fire to keep the herd distracted so they could get home, and Merle running off on his own like a damn fool. 

That was his brother, right enough, but he couldn't- 

Daryl couldn't believe he was dead. 

He was on a rooftop in Atlanta all over again, baking in the sun and looking down at a handcuff, a puddle of blood, and his brother's severed hand. He was in an old building in Woodbury, his girl's eyes dead inside as Glenn told him that it was his brother, it was Merle who'd done this to them. Who'd brought them here. 

He was having a bag pulled off his head, in an arena where some one-eyed asshole who he'd later learn had raped his girl was making some speech, and his brother was beating the shit out of him, but Merle's heart wasn't in it. He was standing back to back with Merle in that same damn arena, punching walkers in the face because what the fuck else was he supposed to do? 

He was sitting in the bed of truck with his girl in his arms, his brother admitting to things he'd done that Daryl never expected to hear, and telling him he'd tried to get her out of there. 

He was in the prison yard, half under his brother's bike, and Merle was telling him not to be an idiot. 

He was in a pawn shop looking at rings, and Merle was being an asshole before finally pointing to the right one, the perfect one. 

Merle was pronouncing them man and wife and telling him to kiss his girl; Merle was bitchin' about carrying the damn goat while his girl was practically dancing around them and writing an ode to cheese; Merle was trying to pull his girl away from him after Daryl tried to take a swing at Merle the prison field in the early morning sunlight; Merle was telling him about her losing the baby, pain in his eyes that Daryl knew well; Merle was smiling at his girl's sleeping face in a goddamn train car; Merle was telling him off for the shitty things he'd said to her and to Merle after Beth died; Merle was cooking goddamn spaghetti and clumsily flirting with Carol while his girl laughed and egged them on; Merle was slapping his back two mornings ago, the last time Daryl'd seen him, and walking away- 

Merle wasn't fucking dead. 

He couldn't be dead.

"You didn't find nothin?" he heard himself asking Glenn, and stepped forward as Glenn pulled something out of his pocket and held it out.

It was a broken and bloody flare gun. 

No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be. 

"Jesus, Daryl, catch her!" Maggie yelled, and he spun in time to see his girl's face go stark white and her eyes close as she dropped like a stone toward the floor.


	10. Will Not Let It Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> references to past rape/non con

He didn't get scared until she handed him her bow to use while they were hunting together. Nobody used her damn bow but her, end of story. 

It wasn't that he hadn't been worried before; God knew that was far from the truth. She'd been on her feet within ten minutes of passing out on him, pushing everyone away to go sit with Rick and Carl. He got that, but then she came out a couple hours later and wanted to go straight to work. 

Wouldn't even take a damn shower first; just shrugged and said why bother? She was gonna be hauling corpses and getting messed up again anyway. When she'd pulled her machete and started driving it into the heads of the dead, any and all of them, no matter if they were completely down or not, he'd grabbed her arm and argued. 

That did about as much good as he'd thought it would, and she'd ended up screaming at him to damn well leave her alone and let her work; there was shit to do and she could do her job. He'd tried hard not to get mad, but it wasn't like he was at the best he'd ever been either, and he'd finally snapped back as she'd waved the machete around while making her point. He'd stalked away, only to hear her say his brother's name in her complaining tone. He felt it stab at him, and when she made that wounded-animal cry- 

He'd scooped her up and held her as she sobbed before she pushed him away again and went back to work. 

It had worried him when she started leaving her bow by the door; when she'd just kinda shrugged and accepted without arguing when he told her not to bother chasing the assholes who'd stolen his bow and his motorcycle. His girl would have been pissed and possessive over that thing; would have wanted their heads for pointing a gun at him. 

It wasn't that she didn't care. He'd seem her eyes flash with that fiery rage when he'd told her the story. It was more that she didn't have the drive- the willpower- to maintain it. 

And when she gave him her bow? That's when he got scared. His girl wasn't right. She wasn't all there. 

It wasn't like after the Governor, where she'd been pushing the pain and the fear away so she could stay moving. It was more the opposite, that she was livin' in it too damn much and it was drowning her. He didn't know what to do, so he talked to Rick and they decided what she needed was to get out. To be forced out of place, given something to do that required her to be present and focus. 

 

When she'd finally cracked and asked him why he wasn't more fucked up than he was, he was relieved. He knew she'd noticed- she'd made references to it, to expecting him to be a wreck- and it was nice to have her come out of herself and her own head enough to ask what was going on in his. 

The fact that it was screamed at him while she raged about every damn thing she could think of wasn't all that great, but he'd done his share of bein' an asshole. So far, she was just an angry, moody mess, and she wasn't doing on purpose. She wasn't trying to hurt people, she just couldn't cope with anything but her own mind, and that she wasn't handling for shit either. So even when she pissed him off, he found it pretty damn easy to forgive.

He'd just shrugged at her. "I don't believe he's gone." 

She stared at him for a minute, the pain on her face stark and heartbreaking. Then she'd sneered at him and stalked out the door, slamming it on her way out. 

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to scrub away some of the exhaustion. She hadn't been sleeping for shit, and while she didn't know it, he sat on the damn stairs to keep an eye on her while she was on the porch. He thought they'd gotten past her constant-watch stage after the first week in Alexandria, but he shouldn't have been surprised that she was back out there. 

When she felt helpless, she looked for things to control, and usually tried to control the things that nobody could do anything about. Not even her. 

She'd already given his brother up for dead, and he didn't blame her. Michonne had told him, while she was in the room with Carl and Rick, about telling her and Maggie when Glenn and Merle broke off and she never saw a fire. How his girl had held it together then, believing they'd find a way, and the sheer joy in her eyes when Glenn'd sent up the green balloons. So finding out that he was dead a second time in as many days, with that hope in between? 

Yeah, he didn't blame her one bit. 

But he couldn't believe it. He knew- he knew- nobody could kill his brother but his brother himself. His brother had hacked off his own hand while surrounded by walkers in Atlanta rather than die, and that was before she'd been in their lives. Before she'd made Daryl a better man, and the two of them had changed Merle into a person, not just a redneck asshole. Before his thing with Carol.

Merle had too damn much waiting here for him. 

 

"Look, man, I need- I just-" Daryl broke off, frustrated, and started to pace the kitchen. His brother was leaning against the counter, smirking at him with what his girl called Merle's asshole face. Daryl knew his brother knew damn well what he was tryin' to say, but it weren't in Merle's nature to make anything easier for his little brother. Daryl growled under his breath and swung around to face his brother. 

"I'm tryin' to say I'm sorry, aight? I know- I know. I never- Fuck," he snarled, cutting off again and scrubbing his hands over his face. 

Merle chuckled, a low rumbling sound, and Daryl glared at him. 

"I get it," he said. "But you accused me of movin' in on your girl, little brother. That hurt ol' Merle's feelings just a bit, and hurt hers a hell of a lot worse." 

Daryl hung his head as he sighed. "I know. Hurt her worse'n you probably realize," he muttered. 

Merle snorted. "I know more than ya think, little bro." 

"Yeah. Anyway, I'm sorry. I know ya wouldn't. Hell, if ya did, she'd knock you on your ass in a heartbeat. And I'm sorry I hit ya, too," he added, glancing his brother's way. 

Merle pushed off from the counter and stepped to him, clapping him on the back and hugging him roughly. "Hell, baby brother, that's just the Dixon way. Good to have ya back." 

 

He waited up for her when she stormed out. When she came back, her eyes were red and swollen, but she stepped over and gave him a long hug and a whispered apology. He held on to her, breathing in the scent of her hair and leaning into the feel of her warm against him. She'd been distant lately, and he hadn't wanted to push, knowing how he'd been after Beth. He knew she'd needed the space, but he'd missed her. 

When he fell asleep with her curled against him, his face in her hair and his arm curling her close, some of the fear he'd been feeling had eased from his mind. And when he'd woken up and talked to her on the porch, she'd looked at him- really looked at him- for the first time in weeks. He'd been able to reach her, to tell her why he was ok and have her listen, and that weight on his shoulders felt a hell of a lot better.


	11. Fast Moving Feet

Rick was goin' on and on about the law of averages, and how things should be looking up for them. The way Daryl saw it, they already were. 

His girl was smiling and laughing and joking, and he could see her coming back to herself. 

He wasn't a fool. He knew it wouldn't last; that one good day wouldn't take away the pain in her eyes or the anger that simmered just under the surface of her these days. Hell, Daryl was still having his own bad days, days when something someone said reminded him of Beth and he saw her falling down dead at that woman's feet. Days when he was just as angry at the world as his girl was. 

It wouldn't be a magic cure. The only magic cure would be his damn brother getting his ass home. But it was a start, and he'd take this good day while it lasted. 

 

The long-haired freak in the leather coat called himself Jesus and stole their damn truck, made the three of them run after him, and then whaled on him and Rick for a bit, and his girl just stood there grinning like a damn fool at the guy. Daryl was pretty fuckin' grumpy about the whole thing, and he didn't know why. Maybe it was that the guy reminded him so much of his girl. 

They certainly seemed like kindred fuckin' spirits. She'd tried to recruit him right away, and Daryl'd even found himself grinning at when she declared the guy Ninja Jesus. It was a mark in the guy's favor that he'd smiled at that too. 

But then the asshole climbed on the roof of their goddamn truck and made Daryl chase him around a field. 

Daryl didn't enjoy that nearly as much as his girl did, and when the guy pointed Daryl's own gun at him, he'd been pretty well certain he was dead. Turns out, asshole believed enough of his whole 'more of them that us' thing to take out a walker that was about to take Daryl himself down. 

But when the bastard cost them the truck full of supplies and got himself knocked out in the process, Daryl would have left him there in a heartbeat. It was his girl and her freakin' smile that made him agree to bring the asshole back. 

Daryl'd do anything to see that smile more often. 

 

His girl had run barefoot into danger with her bow, and he was pretty pissed. 

But the way she was lighting up as the Jesus character talked about trade between communities- fuck. He'd missed that light in her. She looked at Rick when the asshole told her her world was about to get bigger, and Daryl knew they were going when Rick sighed. 

"I know. Sustainability. Order. Government. I've heard it all before."


	12. With Such Ease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence

He didn't trust Jesus, and his girl's obvious faith in him irritated the shit out of him for some reason. He didn't think it was jealousy or any of that macho bullshit his girl hated so much, but goddamn, what did he know? There was just something about the guy that rubbed Daryl the wrong fuckin' way. 

But still, the guy was tryin' to help his people. Daryl knew that look in the guy's eyes; had been feeling that quiet desperation and frustration himself not too long ago. So he helped, even when he wanted to say screw 'em and let them sort themselves out. 

Daryl would've wanted someone to help his girl, or any of his friends, situations were reversed. 

 

The Hilltop was fine, he supposed, as places went. It was the fire in his girl's eyes that made it special, really. That and all the damn food. 

But the asshole in charge was a dick, and Daryl was damn glad when his girl asked Maggie to deal with him. Daryl even found himself warming up to Jesus after that Gregory prick. 

When there was a bunch of noise from outside and his girl followed Jesus and Gregory with that 'shit's going down' expression, Daryl was on her heels even before Rick was. Then she fuckin' tackled the guy who stabbed Gregory, and what the hell was happening around here? 

They'd mentioned Negan, and that was who the biker assholes had said they were working for. Negan wasn't exactly a common name, so it had to be the same asshole, right? 

Then some dude was choking Abraham and Daryl grabbed his arm and snapped it backward, breaking it and tossing the guy to the ground in time to see Rick with a knife to his throat. 

"You try to stop me, you're killing my brother!" the guy yelled, and Daryl felt something in his gut clench. He knew that feeling, but his girl was scooting closer. 

She reached the asshole's side, and the guy looked at her, and she struck. She had blood all over her hands and Rick had blood pouring over him, and Daryl was moving to her side and scanning the crowd of people around for threats. 

She pulled Rick to his feet, and Rick was talking to people. Daryl took his eyes off the crowd and gave his girl a quick once over. That's why the woman managed to move before he saw, and he was starting forward with a snarl as she clocked his girl right on the jaw, hard enough to send her head snapping to the side.   
Michonne got to the bitch first, and knocked her flat on her ass. 

Daryl approved, strongly. 

 

The Negan prick apparently was killing kids and making people steal there shit. Daryl was pissed as hell, and from the look on his girl and Rick's faces, they thought the same as him. These assholes needed to die. 

"If we got get ya boy back, kill Negan, take out his men, will you hook us up?" Daryl asked. "We want food, medicine, and one of them cows out there."

Jesus blinked at him and then looked at his girl, who grinned at both of them. 

"Confrontation's never been something we've had a problem with," she informed Jesus, who snorted at the same time as Daryl.


	13. Tied Up In Someone's Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut-adjacent-ness

She turned to him that night, looking for comfort and distraction. He knew she was worried about the deal they'd struck; knew that beneath the calm surface her mind was a storm of doubt and fear. 

Hell, he was worried about it himself. He'd taken people down when he needed to, and so had she. He'd killed more people than he could count at this point, between the prison falling, Terminus, and blowing up those motorcycle pricks, some of the same group they'd be killing the next day. And she had even more blood on her hands. 

But that was different. Those killings, they'd been because people had attacked them. Not because they were trying to stop people from attacking them. It was different, and it was harder. 

He was glad she'd turned to him, glad she'd stayed in his arms instead of slipping away alone like she had been for so long. It was a good sign, in his opinion. 

When her fingers danced along his back and slid down his spine, he shivered against his will. Goddamn, the woman knew how to get to him. 

Well, he knew how to get to her back, and he used every trick he knew, coaxing her up and over and watching the way her face moved as he did; loving the ways she said his name- the breathless moan, the gasping cry, the half-scream as she tumbled over a peak and let go completely. 

That was it for him, as it always was, the way she arched and cried out and just let go, and he fell with her, her name a prayer on his lips, whispered over and over into her hair as she clung to him and trembled.


	14. We'll Break For It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> references to past miscarriage/pregnancy loss

They did their jobs the next day, and when shit hit as it always did, at least they were ass deep together. He watched her back and Rick's as they did things that broke his heart for them, and when the bullets were blazing, he took on whatever came their way to keep her safe. 

And he did. They made it through alive, and then some asshole came roaring out of the building on his bike. His bike, the one Dwight and the woman had stolen from him in the burnt forest. 

Daryl didn't think; just went for it, tackling the asshole to the ground and slamming his fist into the guy's face. "Where'd you get the bike?" he roared. 

Rick pulled a gun on the guy and his girl put her foot on his head, and Daryl appreciated them both being on his side because he had a bad feeling about things. That bad feeling only got worse when the asshole's radio crackled and someone started talking to Rick. 

Daryl followed Rick's lead, hauling the guy up with Glenn and putting a gun to his head. He'd have pulled the trigger, too, fuck it all. Asshole had his bike, and that meant he'd probably gotten it off the dead bodies of the couple who'd stolen it from Daryl. 

Just because Daryl'd wanted to kill them didn't mean he wanted them dead. 

 

His girl scared the shit out of him right now, and he wondered if killing those men in their sleep had broken something in her. Then he remembered the way she'd been with the Claimer assholes who'd threatened to hurt Carl, and how she'd taken down the Terminus pricks without a flicker of hesitation, and he thought maybe it was just how she was with threats to their group these days. 

He tried to not let it bother him as she talked to the guy in that cold voice about killing his friends. When she cut the asshole and he screamed, even Daryl was shocked- not that she could do that, because hell. She'd handed Rick a knife to go plunge into someone's dead body a couple dozen times. His girl had the guts to do anything that needed doing. 

He just didn't think she'd do it right fucking then, when the bastards who had Maggie and Carol could be watching them. 

Then she shoved her bloodied knife into its sheath on her belt and told them all to relax, that she'd been testing to see if they would react. "They're gone. You think if they were watching they wouldn't have made a move, fired a shot, gotten on the radio? We're good to go. Bet Dixon and I can follow their tracks."

He felt a white-hot rage followed by a sweep of cold fear. What did she think she was doing? She could have gotten herself killed, or Maggie or Carol or any of them! He pulled her away, intent on giving her a piece of his goddamn mind, but she shut him down with a sneer.

"Look, can you stow it and yell at me later? We need to get on their trail! Rick, I'm going; don't argue. Come with me or don't," she snapped, and turned away to head for the trees. As she did, he caught something under the anger; just a flash of hurt that bewildered him. 

 

Jesus pinpointed where they were, and Daryl felt some more of the distrust he had for the guy fade. By the time he was being shipped off back to the Hilltop to fulfill his people's half of their deal, Daryl was almost sorry to see him go. He didn't even mind when his girl tossed Jesus a high five and a grin and Jesus patted her back familiarly. 

Maybe he'd been wrong about that guy. 

They were ready to take over the place, and his girl was one of the first out of the car. He saw the look of nausea roll over her as she turned wide eyes to them, and he smelled it too. Fire and burning people. 

Daryl felt the fear rising up in the blind urgency; the almost unmanageable need to fight something or someone. Carol was in there, Carol who was his brother's flame, and Daryl's friend. If Carol got killed or hurt on Daryl's watch, Merle would be pissed as hell at him. And Maggie was pregnant. No way was this group losing another baby. He had to get in there; protect Maggie like he hadn't been able to protect his girl and his baby. 

But then he didn't have to, because the door was sliding open and Maggie and Carol were making their way out, both of them looking like they'd been to hell and back. Carol's eyes were wide and glassy and she looked- she looked so wrong. 

Daryl didn't know what he said to her or what she said to him; he just knew he wanted to kill every one of the bastards who put that look on her face. 

His girl stepped over to the asshole who'd been on his bike and suggested he talk, but Daryl didn't care what he had to say. 

"Let 'im burn," he snarled. His girl shot him a look, one that he almost couldn't read- some mix of agreement, irritation, and that flash of hurt again- and turned back to the asshole without a word to Daryl. 

"Where'd you get the bike?" she asked, and she had that calm-conversational tone that meant violence was brewing. It was funny, she talked about Rick's tells all the time- the tone, the head tilt, the way he tapped his gun. She didn't even know she had them too, and how similar they were to Rick's. Though she had that thing where she smiled and joked a lot as she was drenched in blood, and that was worse than Rick's painfully reasonable performance. 

The asshole shot back some smart response that had Daryl sneering. 

"Was Negan in that building last night, or was he here?" Rick asked urgently, and Daryl was interested to know that himself. 

"Both. I'm Negan, shithead. There's a whole world of fun that we can talk about, so let's have a chat," the asshole smirked at Rick, but Daryl's attention was on his girl.   
She'd tilted her head a fraction when the guy started talking, her eyes narrowing in that way that said she was picking up on something Daryl was probably missing. Using that brain of hers to put together clues and hints and body language into a picture that would be surprisingly obvious once she told him. 

He loved the way her mind worked; how she could piece together things like that in a heartbeat. How she noticed every little damn thing, even the things others wouldn't pay attention to. 

He saw the irritation in her eyes as the asshole went on running his mouth, and he jerked a little when she sighed and plucked Rick's gun from his hand. 

But Daryl was smiling grimly as she shot the asshole in the head without a flinch.


	15. Shore Light

He was getting restless, trapped inside the walls. The Hilltop had come through for them, with Jesus delivering a truckload of food and medicine and things a couple of days before. He'd been working on one of the cars near the gate when the alert came from the guard, tinkering to try to get it running better. Damn cars were always breaking down in some way or another, and he found himself putting his grease monkey past to work on a regular basis. 

As the gate slid open, his girl hopped down from the hood of the car near him- one of her regular office spaces, where everyone knew they could come to find her with issues, petty disputes, and requests- and started grinning when she saw Jesus driving the loaded pickup. 

"Hey, Ninja Jesus," she called, jogging over as he cruised to a stop. 

"Troublemaker," Jesus replied, and she laughed. 

"Who told you?" 

"Rick did. Said he wanted to even the playing field a little. Daryl," Jesus said with a smile as Daryl strolled up behind his girl. She smiled at Daryl and leaned into the hand he ran over her arm. 

"So, what'd you bring us?" she asked as Daryl nodded back to the long haired man. Jesus gave her an amused look as she rose to her toes to peak into the back of the truck. "Holy shit, apples!" she crowed. 

Daryl snorted and shook his head at her, and Jesus turned his smile to Daryl. 

"She's easy to please," the other man commented, and Daryl snorted again. 

"Be glad you don't have cheese. You'd get some goddamn poetry."

Jesus started to laugh as Daryl's girl turned a mock scowl on the two of them. "As it happens...." 

And Daryl's girl shrieked in delight when Jesus leaned into the truck and pulled a package from the front seat. "You have cheese!?" she exclaimed, and did a little shimmying happy dance right there. 

Jesus was grinning and holding the package just out of her reach as Daryl laughed and she complained, dancing around him and trying to get it, when Rick and Olivia strolled up. Yeah, maybe Daryl would like this Jesus guy after all, he thought as Jesus finally relented and let her snatch the wrapped package out of his hands. She peeled back the paper and started squealing again at the sight of the yellow wheel.


	16. These Silent Beasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> minor character death

The doc and Rosita cornered him with a map and insisted that she go with them. Daryl finally agreed with a scowl when she declared that she was going with or without him. When the doctor smiled slyly after he agreed and said something about his girl being right, Daryl scowled even harder. 

"Get ya gear. Meet at the gate in thirty," he grunted to her, and went off to find his woman. He hated being the damn babysitter. 

 

She was in the gazebo, and he paused to watch the way the wind moved the wispy strands of her hair that had come out of her braid. She was working on something or another, probably making plans for dead drops now that they had better supplies, and the light fell across her scared cheek and made her eyes glow. 

The scar made his heart clench for a moment, the way it always did when he noticed it fresh, and he could see the asshole swing at her in Terminus, could see her fingers come away from her cheek red and the primal smile she'd turned on the guy before she gutted him. Literally. 

His girl was well acquainted with violence, much like he was, and it made these moments where she was peaceful and smiling all the better. 

When she wound her arms around him and told him to go play and be a hero, he'd just shaken his head. He wasn't no hero, and told her as much before he kissed her. He meant it, too, though she'd laughed him off and batted her lashes and told him he was her hero. 

He wasn't, though, and he walked away feeling vaguely guilty, like he'd touched something white and pure and smudged dirt and darkness all over it. He felt that way a lot around her, though she was the only one who'd ever managed to make him feel like maybe he was all she and everyone else in the group seemed to think he was. 

He couldn't help but feel like maybe the violence and pain that had made up his life so far was what was bringing the violence out in her. He shook his head at himself as he headed to meet the doc and Rosita, hearing his brother's scornful voice in his head calling him a self-indulgent idiot. 

Daryl was and he knew it, but it didn't stop him feeling responsible for everything and everyone around him. Especially her. 

 

Shit started going wrong pretty soon, as it usually did, and Daryl was muttering under his breath as he threw the truck into park and stared at the tree across the road in front of him. He and Rosita got out, cleared the area, and he grinned when Rosita held up a bag full of tiny bottles of booze. 

He might be a mean drunk, but he could handle one or two. 

Rosita retrieved the doctor from the truck, and they got ready to set off. The doc looked at her map and gestured down the tracks, but Daryl shook his head. 

"No tracks. We'll take the road." 

"That's twice as far," Rosita declared, looking at him weird. 

He shrugged. "Take whatever way you want. I ain't takin' no tracks." 

The last time he'd followed train tracks, he'd ended up in a room with his girl, his brother, and his best friend and they'd damn near gotten their throats slit and been somebody's lunch. He'd had to watch his girl nearly get her eye poked out by some asshole with a slick smile, and then fought his way out of there with his girl getting soaked in blood beside him. 

Hell, his brother almost hadn't made it out. 

Naw, he was done with train tracks. 

 

He felt a little bad for being an asshole to them on the way there, so he took the fuckin' tracks back. He should have known better. Nothin' good ever came from tracks. 

The doc damn near got herself killed by a lone walker going after a cooler, and Daryl and Rosita looked at each other. Daryl was pissed as hell, and the doc just held up a damn orange soda with a grin. 

"Hot damn. Look at this," she declared, and Daryl snapped. 

"What the hell was that?" he snapped at her. "You could have died right there, you know that?" 

The doc stood and sighed, gesturing vaguely with the sick pack of soda. "Yeah, I know." 

What the fuck? "Are you hearin' me?" he yelled, and she interrupted him before he could lecture her further. 

"Who gives a shit?" 

What? 

"You could have died killing those Saviors, both of you, but you didn't. You wanna live, you take chances. That's how it works," she went on, and Daryl got that. 

He did. He was a walking embodiment of that motto. Taking chances the group needed him to take, so he and his girl and those he loved could live. 

And yet, they kept dying around him- Beth, Hershel, Merle, his baby. She'd hit a nerve, and it pissed him off. 

"For a couple a damn sodas?" he sneered, knowing how to be an asshole when he was angry more than he knew how to deal with the guilt and the fear of losing more people. 

"No," she said, sounding weary and exasperated. "Just this one." And she marched right past them. 

Damn, that was sarcasm that would have made his girl proud. 

 

Rosita was the first to go after her as she headed down the tracks. "Are you seriously that stupid?" 

The doctor turned around and glared. "Are you?" 

Daryl walked up slowly as the two of them squared off, feeling like he was missing something damn important, something he should have been able to grasp. Feeling like he was failing the doc, and he owed her a lot- owed her for Carl being alive, for patching up his arm. He was failing her somehow, and that made him angry and guilty as well. 

"Do you have any idea what that meant to me?" she exploded at the him and Rosita, and he was beginning to realize he didn't. "See, I have training in this shit. I'm not making it up as I go along, like with the surgery and the stitches and the...." She trailed off and Daryl looked away for a minute before glancing back at her. 

He was starting to get it. He knew how it felt, to be so completely out of your depth and yet have everyone looking at you to lead, to be confident and handle shit. He knew the toll that took on a person, and knew what a relief it was to be on ground where you felt a little more at ease. 

Hell, it was why he was out here all the time. Out here, against the dead, he knew what the fuck he was doing. 

"See, I asked you to come with me because you're brave like my brother and sometimes you actually make me feel safe," she said, pointing at him, and there was a fresh wave of that guilt and failure. 

He couldn't keep anyone safe, not really. 

She was turning to Rosita now, pointing to her in exasperation. "And I wanted you here because you're alone. Probably for the first time in your life. And because you're stronger than you think you are, which gives me hope that maybe I can be too." She looked away before she started talking again. "I could have gone with Tara. I could have told her I love her, but I didn't because I was afraid. That's what's stupid. Not coming out here, facing my shit. And it makes me sick that you guys aren't even trying, because you're strong and you're smart and you're both really good people. If you don't wake-" 

The arrow came out of nowhere, and Daryl jerked back as the doc continued to talk for a moment even as she fell.


	17. Surround Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> references to past rape/non con  
> references to past miscarriage/pregnancy loss  
> references to past alcohol abuse

That asshole Dwight stepped out of the trees, and he held Daryl's bow in his hands. Daryl didn't have the energy to care what happened to the side of the asshole's face, because he had Eugene on the ground at his feet and there were a shit ton of other assholes with guns pointed at him and Rosita. 

"Well, hell," Dwight said, and he smirked at Daryl. "You got somethin' to say to me? Gonna clear the air?" 

Daryl didn't say a word, but he made a promise to himself, on the body of the doc at his feet, that he was gonna kill this asshole, and soon. Even as two of the other bastards came forward, took his and Rosita's guns and patted them down, he stared at Dwight. 

He'd tried to help this asshole and his girl. He'd seen something of himself in him, just trying to protect what was his, and Daryl'd tried to help. And for that, this bastard shot someone with the bow he stole from Daryl and had the nerve to joke, saying his crossbow kicked like a son of a bitch. 

Daryl was going to kill him nice and slow. Maybe take a page out of his girl's book and do it a little at a time with a knife, feeding bits and piece of him to a walker while the asshole watched. 

"I should have done it," Daryl said finally, just wanting the prick to shut the hell up as one of them pulled the bag from his back. 

"What was that? I didn't hear you." 

"I should've killed ya," he repeated, and the guy nodded at him. 

"Yeah, you should have," he agreed, and Daryl knew he meant it. Maybe he even wished Daryl had. 

 

"I'm sorry, darlin', I didn't catch your name," the asshole said with a leer when Rosita spoke up. "I'm Dwight, or D. You can call me either. And you are?" 

Rosita glared. "Rosita. What do you want?" 

"Well, Rosita-" The way the prick said her name set Daryl's teeth on edge, made him want to get between Dwight and Rosita. He was suddenly overwhelmingly grateful that it wasn't his girl he was out here with, that the asshole was sneering at like that. The relief was followed by guilt, because he was basically saying he was glad it was Rosita being put in this situation, not someone he cared about more. 

"It's not about what we want. It's about what you're going to do. You're going to let us into your little complex-it looks like it's just beautiful in there. And then you're going to let us take whatever and whoever we want." 

Daryl stopped listening as the asshole started in on the threats. He was so tired of all this shit. So tired of not being able to catch his breath; of never having a safe space stay safe for more than five damn minutes at a time. He was tired of assholes thinking they had a right to what was his and could just take it from him. He was tired of failing people, especially his girl and Rick. It was his fault the doctor was dead; his fault this new threat was gonna show up at their door. His fault Maggie and Glenn wouldn't have some kind of help right there on hand for their little one. 

 

Eugene gave them the opening, and Abraham gave them the cover. They made it out, but Eugene got hit and that was just another thing, another blow on Daryl's guilty conscious. He got them back, though; got Eugene to the infirmary where Rosita could patch him up. 

Rosita had to, because Daryl'd gotten the damn doc killed. 

He stared out the window when his girl came in, and brushed her off when she tried to talk to him. Abraham and Rosita gave the report to her and Rick, and he saw the way she gave him a long, troubled look as she was forced to spring into action. The place needed defending, and the way she looked guiltily at him as she did her job pissed him off more. He knew she thought she needed to be by his side, taking care of him, and it made him angry that she was probably right. He did need taking care of. 

So he left, walking out as he felt both her and Rick's eyes on him, and neither of them tried to stop him. And wasn't it just ridiculous that that made him even more angry? 

 

Then he lied to her, something he swore long ago he'd never do. So far, through every damn thing they'd been through- the Governor, the baby, the prison falling and them being separated, Beth and his asshole behavior after- he'd not lied to her once. 

But when she asked him, so casually he knew it was everything to her, how many more of the tiny bottles of booze he had, he opened his mouth to tell her a lot and something else came out. 

"None. Promise. Only had the one." 

The relief in her eyes spiked a knife through his heart, even as he promised her that it wouldn't be like Beth.


	18. Made A Bed Where You Don't Belong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut adjacent content

He spent two days lying to her, drinking a little here and there to take the edge off of everything and trying to cope. Trying to make good on his promise that it wouldn't be like after Beth. Trying to not give in to the rage inside him. 

He had some keychain the doc had gotten because it had her brother's name on it, and he started carrying it around in his pocket. 

He missed his brother something awful. Merle could have kicked his head out of his ass, taken the bottles of booze, and gotten him to talk to his girl. 

He was starting to think maybe his girl was right and his brother was gone after all, and that thought had him reaching into the saddle bag of his bike for one of those tiny bottles. He'd downed it and tucked the empty thing back away when he heard her voice and jumped a little. 

"Hey, Dixon. You coming inside soon?" Her voice was sleepy, and when he looked at her, his heart clenched. 

She was so damn beautiful, and sexy, and she didn't even know it, standing there in one of his flannels and that was it. Her hair was loose and tangled as she shoved a hand through it, and he felt a flood of heat wash through him as the motion caused his shirt to ride up even higher on her bare thighs. Her feet were bare, too, and that shouldn't have made him react like it did. Same for the heavy sleepiness in her eyes and the way she rubbed one hand over her cheek and leaned against the beam of the porch. 

"Yeah, woman. I'm comin' in now," he said, swinging off his bike and starting toward her, and she smiled brilliantly at him. 

He tried not to let the guilt eat him up as he swept her into his arms with a growl and her laugh filled his ears as he hauled her inside and up the stairs, her legs around his hips and his mouth moving over her skin hungrily. 

 

The sky was streaked with color as he lay beside her. She was warm cuddled against his side, his hand still tangled in her hair. He was glad she'd been getting over the thing about her hair, because he'd missed having his hands all in it like he did now. Like he'd had moments before, while she'd cried his name in a breathless moan and gripped his arms hard enough to leave a series of half-moon marks on his skin. 

He sighed and gently untangled his fingers from her hair, pressing a feather-light kiss to her bare shoulder and slipping from the bed. She made a little noise of protest as he did, but curled up into a tighter ball and tucked her hands up under her face in her sleep as she settled in deeper. 

He grabbed his clothes from where they were scattered over the floor with hers, but carried them out of the room rather than risk waking her. He moved naked through the house, knowing no one would be there to raise an eyebrow or yell at him to put some pants on, damn it. Merle was gone, and Carol was living over there with Tobin now. 

He'd had some bad moments over that, knowing how his brother had watched her from afar for a long time before they'd begun whatever it was they'd been beginning. And now they were both gone, and it was just him and his girl in this house- something he should have loved, but he knew they both just felt like something was missing. 

He pulled on his clothes in the kitchen, then went out to his bike for one of those tiny bottles. 

That was all he was lookin' for, really. But then he'd gone back inside, walked into their room, and picked up his gun and his knife and his bow, and he hadn't been able to look at her as he did. He just snatched them up and left the room, and if he hesitated in the doorway- well. 

It wasn't for long enough, was it?


	19. Poor Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence

He knew who the fuck it was sneaking through the woods after him. He saw her, and that's why he hit the damn tree. 

Daryl'd had a couple more of those tiny fuckin' bottles, and he was gonna kill that bastard Dwight- and Rosita and Glenn and Michonne and even his girl if she was with them could kiss his ass. It was his job, damn it. 

"Watch the hell out, asshole," Rosita snapped, and he snatched his arrow from her hands. 

"Yeah, I did. You shouldn't have come." 

"You shouldn't have left!" It was Michonne who said it, and she was as pissed as he was. "Do you know she chased you down the street? Didn't even put her damn shoes on." 

"I left her asleep so she wouldn't come!" He snapped back, trying to bury the guilt that rose as the image of her filled his mind. "She should have stayed in bed! She out here too?" 

"No," Rosita growled, and he kept walking away. 

"When I split off from Sasha and Abraham, he was out there in the woods, in that burned-out forest with them girls, put a gun to my head. Tied me up. I even tried to help him," he sneered at them, disgusted by his own weakness. 

"So you think it's your fault?" Glenn yelled, and that made him turn around. Of course he thought it was his fault, because it was his fault. His fault Maggie and Glenn's baby didn't have a doctor on hand, because Daryl'd been too much of an idiot to just shoot the asshole who killed her when he had a chance. 

"Yeah, I know it is. I'm gonna go do what I should have done before." 

"What for her? She's gone man. You're doing this for you," Glenn called after him. 

"Man, I don't give a shit." 

"Daryl!" Glenn got in his way, and Daryl kept himself from lashing out only by reminding himself he owed Glenn, owed him for taking the doctor away from his baby. "We need to get back there and figure this out from home. Our home. We need you. Your wife needs you. And everyone back there needs us right now." 

He scoffed. "Home's got her and Rick. It'll be fine." 

"How well do you think she's gonna hold it together if you're out here like this?" It was Michonne, and her voice was low and hard. "Daryl, I was there- while you were gone and I told her Glenn and Merle were probably dead. I was there with her and Rick the whole time the two of you were fighting after Beth. She's not her without you, you asshole. Come home." 

Daryl felt that, felt it like the sting of a belt across his back and the sharp sudden crack of broken rib. He felt it down to his bones, and still he couldn't do it. He couldn't go back. 

"We'll square it. I will. I promise you. Just come back," Michonne said, reaching for his arm. When she touched him, he jerked away. 

"I can't," he said softly. 

"Daryl!" 

"Man, I can't!" He shouted, and set off. Moments later, footsteps sounded, and Rosita fell in beside him. He barely spared her a glance and neither one of them spoke. 

 

He knew they were right. Knew he was being a selfish asshole, but he couldn't go back. 

His brother was out here somewhere, and he needed to find him. For himself, for his girl. And the asshole who killed the doctor was out here, and he needed to kill him. For himself, and for everyone back home. 

Daryl couldn't go back until he'd done both of those things, and could look his girl in the eye again. 

So here he was, in the woods with Rosita, and damn it all, Glenn and Michonne had gotten themselves kidnapped by the bastards. They were tied up, and one asshole was near them by a fire. 

Daryl and Rosita crept up, soundlessly, but Glenn saw them. Daryl waved him to silences, but Glenn started shouting against a gag, damn it. Damn it! Didn't he see Daryl was trying to save them? 

"Hi, Daryl," Dwight's voice came from behind him, and the bastard shot him. "You'll be alright."


	20. The Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

They shoved a bag over his head and stuffed him into a van, and he could only hope the other three were with him. 

And they left him there, for what felt like hours. 

When they pulled him out of the van and pulled the bag off, he started to wish he was back inside. 

They were all there. All of 'em, except his girl and Carol, and he would have thanked someone for small favors and all that shit, but his heart was pounding and he was wondering if she wasn't there because she was dead. One look at Maggie's face showed somethin' bad was happening and the only way he knew that his girl wouldn't have been doing her best to get Maggie to the fucking doctor was if she was dead somewhere. Not if Rick and Carl were both out here, and there they were. 

"Maggie?" Glenn asked when he saw his wife's pale, sweaty face, and Daryl's heart twisted. 

Maggie was in rough shape, and Daryl remembered Merle's grim voice as he told Daryl what his girl had looked like, up in that tree after the prison fell, when she was losing the baby. Daryl had a sinking feeling that was happening to Maggie right now, and it broke his heart for them both, even as he wondered what fresh hell was about to come out of their fucked up situation. 

"On your knees!" Dwight's voice came, and Daryl followed instructions, because what the fuck else could he do? Rick met his eyes and he looked away from the concern and the fear in them, not wanting to see if his girl was gone. But then he looked again, needing to know more than he wanted to avoid the truth, and Rick was still looking at him. Rick shook his head, the faintest bit, and part of the pounding terror in Daryl settled down. 

His girl was alive, and safe. 

 

"All right! We got a full boat," the asshole talking was cheerful and grinning and Daryl hated him almost as much as he hated Dwight. "Let's meet the man." 

He knocked on the door of the darkened RV, their RV, and Daryl was just wondering what the fuck could possibly be coming when the door opened and some fucker with a slick leather jacket and a goddamn wire wrapped baseball bat stepped out and grinned at them all. 

"We pissin' our pants yet?" he asked. "Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close." 

That would have been enough, but then the asshole stopped and looked over his shoulder, back at the darkened RV. "Hey. That's our cue, dumbass. Get on out here!" 

Daryl and Rick exchanged glances, and then out of the RV stepped the last fucking person Daryl Dixon had ever expected to see right then, and his eyes went wide as his fuckin' brother followed the baseball bat asshole to lean against the side of the RV and survey the group without a flicker of emotion in his eyes. 

Merle looked right at him and didn't do a thing, just took in the blood and moved on to the next person in line, only pausing at the sight of Maggie. 

"Well hell, half these bastards' ain't lookin' too good, boss. We sure they're worth all this goddamn trouble?" Merle pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and stuck it in his mouth, and the baseball bat asshole turned to him as one of the others stepped forward and lit it. 

Merle didn't even look at the guy who'd lit his cigarette, just held the eye of the smiling baseball bat freak, who laughed. 

"I think so," he said, and turned back to Daryl's friends, walking over to take a closer look at them as complete silence fell over the watching crowd. "Yep. Gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Which one of you pricks is the leader?" 

"It's this one," the tall asshole said, pointing to Rick. 

"Hi," the bastard with the baseball bat said, standing over Daryl's friend. "You're Rick, right? I'm Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men." 

Daryl watched as Rick tilted his head to the side to look up at Negan, and he heard his girl's voice in his head going uh-oh, shit's about to get real. He knew she was probably right, as Rick stared at the guy like he was boring a hole in Negan's head while the asshole kept talking. 

"Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool. Not cool." 

Daryl had a weird feeling, like he knew this fucking Negan. As he went on, Daryl realized it was because Negan talked a lot like his girl when she was about to kill someone. That made him go cold somewhere inside, because if this asshole was as dangerous as his girl was, then they were up shit creek without a damn paddle or a canoe. 

"You have no idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly. Yeah," he said, smiling at Rick and looking down at him from the corner of his eyes. "You are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes. Yes, you are," the bastard said, grinning widely at Rick. 

What the fuck had they gotten themselves into? How the fuck was Merle there, and why did Merle look so calm and like he'd never seen any of them before in his life? 

The Negan prick was still talking, and Daryl just wanted him to shut up as he stared at his brother, trying to get Merle's goddamn attention. But his brother just kept smoking his cigarette and watching Negan showboat with the baseball bat. 

"You see, Rick, no matter what, you don't mess with the new world order. New world order is this, and it's really very simple. So even if you're stupid, which you very may well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes. Pay attention."

This guy sounded just like Daryl's girl at her dont-give-a-shit violent finest, and Daryl was more scared about what was going to come next than he'd ever been in his life. More scared than he'd been at Terminus; than when the Governor had appeared with the tank; than when he'd walked into the clearing and seen Rick and Michonne and his brother and his girl at the Claimers' mercy. 

All they would have done was kill them. Daryl had a feeling Negan would make them wish they were dead for a long time first. 

The asshole swung his wire-covered bat down and pointed it at Rick, and Rick jerked back a little. The asshole grinned. 

"Give me your shit... or I will kill you. Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That's your job. Now I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly will. You ruled the roost. You... built something. You thought you were safe." 

Daryl met Carl's eyes across the semi-circle of them, tried to give the kid a little encouragement. He didn't know what was coming, but the kid looked terrified, and rightly so. Hell, Daryl was terrified. 

"I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close. In fact, you are pegged. More pegged if you don't do what I want. And what I want? Is half your shit. And if that's too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it'll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be." The asshole spread his hands, that bat held in one gloved one negligently, and Daryl's eyes kept going back to it. 

"So if someone knocks on your door... you let us in," the asshole said, walking along and stopping in front of Daryl. From the corner of his eye, Daryl saw Merle stiffen, just a little, before forcing himself to relax. If he hadn't known his brother so well, Daryl might have missed it, but he didn't. He saw it, and in that moment he knew his brother was still on their side, but was playing a damn dangerous game. 

"We own that door," Bat Prick was still talking. "You try to stop us and we will knock it down. You understand?" He leaned into Rick, cupping a hand to his ear. "What, no answer?"

He ran a hand over his mouth and scoffed. "You don't really think that you were gonna get through this without bein' punished now, did you? I don't wanna kill you people. Just wanna make that clear from the get go." He was swinging the bat now, and Daryl was pretty sure he was lying. He did want to kill them. 

"I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're dead, now, can you? I'm not growin' a garden. But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of 'em; more than I'm comfortable with. And for that, for that, you're gonna pay. So now?" 

The asshole looked around, and Merle looked at the ground, and Daryl knew this was it. This was the moment where everything was gonna go sideways, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

"Now, I'm gonna beat the holy hell out of one of you. This- this is Lucille, and she is awesome," he continued, slapping his wire-covered bat lightly into his palm. "All this, all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor." 

Daryl watched, motionless, as Negan started pacing the circle again, pausing in front of his friends. Abraham drew himself up and met the asshole's eyes, square, and Negan grinned. 

"Huh," he said, wiping a hand over his mouth again. "Ugh, I gotta shave this shit." Then he moved on, and Daryl tensed as he stopped in front of Carl. The kid met his eyes and none of the fear Daryl had seen earlier was in him now, only rage. 

"You got one of our guns," Negan said, pointing to Carl. Carl tilted his head at Negan, and Daryl felt a stab to his chest as he recognized the pure combination of Rick and his girl in Carl's expression as Negan dropped to a crouch in front of Carl. 

"Whoa. Yeah. You got a lot of our guns. Shit, kid, lighten up," Negan said. "At least cry a little." Then he chuckled and rose, tucking the gun from the ground in front of Carl into his waistband. 

"Jesus," he said, pausing in front of Maggie this time. "You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now," he said, pulling up the bat. 

"No! No!" Glenn screamed, and the Saviors pounced on him as he struggled and Negan turned. Dwight had Daryl's bow aimed at Glenn's face, and Merle just stood, smoking his cigarette and looking on with a vaguely disinterested expression. 

"Nope," Negan said, looking disappointed. "Nope, get him back in line." 

The asshole laughed as Glenn begged, and Daryl sat there, doing fucking nothing. 

"All right, listen. Don't any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one's free. It's an emotional moment, I get it. Sucks, don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit." Negan was studying Rick and Daryl was too, because his friend was not acting like the savage leader he knew. 

Negan's eyes went from Rick to Carl, and he smiled, walking over to Carl and pointing with the bat. "This is your kid, right? This is definitely your kid." 

"Just stop this!" Rick yelled, and that was the Rick Daryl knew. 

"Hey! Do not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don't make it easy on me," the asshole snapped. "I gotta pick somebody. Everybody's at the table waiting for me to order." 

Then the asshole started whistling, walking around and looking down at Daryl and his people. "I simply cannot decide. I got an idea. Eenie. Meenie. Miney. Mo. Catch a tiger by his toe. If he hollers, let him go." 

He pointed to Daryl's friends and family, one at a time, as he spoke, playing his insane game while they sat there, helpless, and his brother watched. 

"Merle!" Negan snapped, standing in front of Daryl. 

"Yeah, boss?" his brother drawled, not looking at Daryl. 

"How's it end again?" 

"My mamma told me to pick the very best one, and you are it," Merle said, and Negan kept moving, finally stopping as Merle said it. 

"Thank you, Merle. That right there is leadership, boys and girls. Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father and then we'll start. You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell, you're all gonna be doing that." 

And then he swung that bat right into Abraham's head, and Abraham didn't move.


	21. Killed the Melody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence   
> major character death

"Oh, damn, sweetheart, were you and him together? That sucks. Well if you were, then you should know, there was a reason for all this. Red- and he was, is, and evermore shall be red- just took one or six or seven for the team! So take a damn look," Negan said, holding his blood soaked bat up in front of Rosita. 

Abraham's words echoed in Daryl's head- "suck my nuts"- and over and over he heard the bat striking. But it was Negan calling him Red, so close to his girl's nickname for Abraham, that broke him, and he couldn't do it . 

"Take a damn look!" Negan yelled, and Daryl threw himself on the asshole, punching him once in the face before the Saviors took him down, hard. 

"Daryl!" Rick yelled, trying to spring to his feet, but Negan was up in Rick's face with the bat. 

"No. No. That? Oh my! That? Is a no-no," the asshole said, crouching down over Daryl while he struggled against the pricks holding him down. His brother was standing now, not knowing what to do, and one of the Saviors- Simon- had a gun trained on Merle. 

"The whole thing- not one bit of that shit flies here!" 

"Do you want me to do it? Right here," Dwight said, and Daryl looked up into the business end of his own goddamn bow again, and snarled. 

"Boss," Merle said, tone differential but firm, and Negan turned. 

"What?" he snapped, and then his expression cleared. "Oh! Really? Well, I should have known. It's your lucky fuckin' day, asshole," he said to Daryl.

Negan looked up at Dwight and waved him off, grabbing Daryl by the hair. "No, you don't kill them. Not until you try a little, asshole. And anyway, that's not how it works. I already told you people, the first one's free. Then I said I would shut that shit down! No exceptions. Now I don't know what kind of lyin' assholes you've been dealing with, but I'm a man of my word," he'd said, looking at Daryl as they dragged him back into the line. "First impressions are important. I need you to know me. Now, I wouldn't kill you anyway, and I promised my man Merle that his brother would be safe. But I have to do somethin'. So-" 

And just like that, he shrugged, and Glenn took the hit. 

Daryl watched, screaming, as Glenn took what should have been his, and he, Daryl fucking Dixon, was left alive while Maggie had to watch her husband beaten to death before her eyes. 

He watched, and he lived, and all he could think was how grateful he was that his girl wasn't here to see how truly he failed. 

 

When it was over, Rick spoke softly, his eyes looking dead in a way Daryl recognized from people who'd crossed them before, but amplified by a thousand. 

"I'm gonna kill you." 

"What? I didn't quite catch that. You're gonna have to speak up," Negan said, kneeling beside Daryl's friend and putting the blood and brain soaked bat in his face. 

"Not today, not tomorrow, but someday. I'm gonna kill you," Rick said, and Negan smiled. 

"Jesus," he whispered. "Simon. What'd he have, a knife?" 

The tall asshole spoke up. "He had a hatchet. An ax." 

"Merle, get me the man's ax," Negan commanded, and Daryl's brother shoved off the RV and stepped over to Simon, who handed over the ax. "Simon's my right hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without 'em? A whole lot of work. You have one?" 

Rick's face didn't change. 

"Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Or did I...?" He sighed when Rick gave no response. Merle walked up and slapped the ax in the man's outstretched hand, and Rick moved then, turning his glare up at Merle.

Negan looked between them and started chuckling. "Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten. You know Merle here, don't you? Left him handcuffed to a building once, if my memory of our conversations holds. Merle Dixon. This is a funny story," Negan said, and patted Merle's cheek fondly. 

"My people found this crazy bastard half-dead under a truly impressive pile of rotten corpses. He was passed out and my people were certain he wouldn't survive all that shit. Well, I took one look at him- and at the fucking pictures they'd taken of where they found him- and I knew, I knew he'd be fine. Turns out, I was right. Wasn't I, my man?" Negan asked Merle, hand on his shoulder and grin on his face. 

Daryl's brother just puffed on his cigarette, then dropped it to the ground and put it out with the toe of his boot. "Hell yeah, boss man. Right as rain, after ya people patched ol' Merle up." 

"Merle has the potential the be my other right hand man. Or maybe my left hand? I hope you don't find that too insensitive, Merle. Now he still has some things he's gonna need to prove, despite his assurances that he hates the lot of you- you in particular, Rick- and that you're the reason he was in the mess we found him in to begin with - but hell, son, you knew that red-haired son of a bitch and the Asian kid, didn't you?" 

Merle nodded once, not looking at either of the remains or at Daryl or Rick, and Negan chuckled again and clapped him on the shoulder. 

"Well, you are off to a good start then, my friend. A good start. Now," Negan turned his attention back to Rick. 

"I'll be right back," he said, grabbing Rick by the shoulder and hauling him up. "Maybe Rick'll be with me. If not, well- we can just turn these people inside out, won't we? Well, the ones that are left."


	22. Before I Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> past child abuse

Night faded into day before the RV came back, and Daryl sat, blood slipping from the gunshot on his arm and his eyes fixed on the place where Glenn's head had once been. He'd gotten him killed. He'd gotten Maggie's husband killed right the fuck in front of her because he couldn't keep his goddamn temper under control. 

Hell, Glenn had only been outside the damn walls to begin with because of Daryl and his temper. 

Negan drug a blood-soaked Rick out, half scrambling on all fours as Negan hauled him back and tossed him toward the semi circle of Daryl's family. Rick had his ax in his hand, and the numbness that had been stealing over Daryl as he stared at his brother and the sun came up just got a little colder. 

"Here we are," Negan declared. "Let me ask you somethin', Rick. Do you even know what that little trip was about?"

Rick said nothing, and Daryl just turned empty eyes from him to Negan. 

"Speak when you're spoken to," Negan commanded in a dull voice. 

"Okay. Okay," Rick whispered softly, looking wild but beaten. 

Daryl knew if Rick was beaten there sure as hell wasn't any hope for the rest of them. 

"That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But you are still looking at me the same damn way... Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that is not gonna work. So..." He crouched beside where Rick was still on his hands and knees, looking like he was searching for a way out of this nightmare. 

Daryl knew there wasn't a way out. 

"Do I give you another chance?" Negan asked Rick softly. 

"Yeah- yes. Yes," Rick answered, and Negan clapped him on the back. 

"Okay. All right. There it is- the grand prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day. Get some guns to the back of their heads. Merle!" 

"Boss," Merle answered, his tone wary, like he didn't know where Negan was going with this. Saviors started aiming, guns cocking and being leveled on all of Daryl's friends. Daryl knew there was one to the back of his head, too, but he didn't fuckin' care. They could kill him whenever. 

He just wished he'd had a chance to tell his girl he was sorry and that he loved her one more time before he got what was coming to him.

"Good. Level with their noses, so if you have to fire- boom. It'll be a real mess," Negan directed. Rick was looking around wildly, and Merle, standing at Negan's shoulder and waiting, looked concerned. Negan turned and smiled at Carl. 

"Merle, bring me the kid," Negan commanded, and Merle's eyes went wide. 

"Respectfully, boss. He's just a kid. Ain't done nothin' but follow his daddy's orders, sir," Merle said, not taking a step in Carl's direction. 

Daryl held his breath as Negan turned slowly to look at Merle. "Excuse me, but did I just hear you question my orders? And you were doin' so damn good on this little expedition." 

"All due respect, boss man. I'll kill anyone ya want me to kill and I'll do anything ya ask me to do, but I cain't be a part of hurtin' a kid," Merle said firmly, eyes on a point just behind Negan's head. 

"Well then," Negan said softly, and slammed his fist into Merle's stomach. Merle doubled over instantly, but made no move to fight back. "Dwight. Get him out of here. He and I will have us a chat later. Kid," he said cheerfully, swinging back around as Dwight hauled Daryl's brother off to the side and tossed him on the ground at the feet of some of the other Saviors. 

"Come here," Negan continued, crooking a finger at Carl. "Right here. Kid.... now," he snapped when Carl just stared him down. 

Carl rose when Negan lifted the bloody bat, just a little, and tipped it in Rick's direction. Then the sick fuck was pulling his belt off and Daryl ran cold as Rick looked on, eyes wide. 

"You a southpaw?" Negan asked conversationally. 

"Am I a what?" Carl snapped with a glare, and Negan grinned. 

"You a lefty?" 

Carl shook his head, and Negan wrapped the belt around Carl's left arm, and Daryl's heart was pounding in his chest and there was nothing he could do. Nothing. 

"That hurt?" Negan asked, and Carl growled a no. "It should. It's supposed to. All right. Get down on the ground, kid, next to Daddy." 

Daryl saw Carl's little flinch when Negan called him 'kid', wondered if he was thinking of Daryl's girl too, and Carl dropped to his knees. 

When Negan forced him to lay down and stretch his arms out, and flipped Carl's hat off his head, Daryl thanked everything good, holy, and otherwise that he'd ever heard might have higher power that she wasn't there. She never would have been able to handle this, seeing the kid threatened like this, and she'd have gotten herself killed and maybe the rest of them too, just for a chance to save Carl. 

Daryl couldn't do it, and that made her a better person than him a thousand times over.

"Simon. You got a pen?" Negan asked, and the tall asshole tossed him one with a smirk. "Sorry, kid. This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across the forearm," Negan declared, marking a line across Carl's arm. 

Daryl got what was coming, and he closed his eyes to try to block it out. 

 

Once, when he was around sixteen, he'd done some stupid shit like skip class on a test day and get fuckin' caught. Hell, he wasn't entirely sure what it was at this point, so many years and the end of the world away from it now. But whatever the hell he'd done, his daddy'd found out, and he'd been pissed, as usual. 

It wasn't an uncommon state of affairs, but it was different in that there was a girlfriend at the time, a live-in one who was better at not making the older Dixon mad than most of 'em had been so far. So his daddy was pretty much sober and had been for a lot longer than he usually lasted, and Daryl waited nervously as his old man rummaged in a drawer in their dingy kitchen. The girlfriend was at work, but she'd cleaned up before she left and Daryl's daddy had kept it fairly neat still that day-a product of being sober instead of blitzed out of his mind- and the quiet rage in his father's face was a jarring counterpoint to the fresh lemon scent that still clung faintly to the room. 

He daddy'd pulled a pen out of the drawer and uncapped it, then grabbed Daryl's arm and marked five x's on his skin, from wrist to elbow. Then he'd handed Daryl a cigarette and a lighter and sat back to watch without a word, lacing his fingers together and waiting as Daryl did as he was told, lighting the cigarette and putting it out on his own arm, right in the center of each of those x's.

 

So when Rick begged softly for Negan not to do it, not to take Carl's arm off, and Negan chuckled, Daryl knew what was coming next. 

"Me? I ain't doin' shit." 

Daryl closed his eyes and tuned it out, unable to look or hear, because Negan's voice sounded a lot like his daddy's all the sudden and he couldn't- he couldn't- 

He heard Rick screaming, and then silence, and he finally opened his eyes and Carl was fine, but Rick wasn't. Rick was holding the ax, and looking in Negan's eyes, and Negan was talking. 

But Rick was broken, and Daryl knew it. He knew that look, because he'd seen it in his own mirror all too often growing up, and he'd seen it in Merle's eyes a time or two as well, and in his girl's and in Carol's and in the eyes of friends and neighbors growing up. 

Rick was broken, and they were all fucked. 

Negan had his friend by the jaw and was yelling at him, and Rick was simply looking down and away and echoing as he was told, and it hurt Daryl to watch, almost more than seeing Glenn killed. 

Being broken was so much worse than death, and Rick was a man that death, violence, and the end of the fuckin' world hadn't been able to break, not truly. Seeing him like that? Daryl would have gladly traded places with him in a heartbeat. 

Hell, Daryl was already broken. 

"We did it," Negan declared. "All of us, together... even the dead guys on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure! Today was a productive damn day!"  
He was waving the bat around as he made his speech, and Daryl didn't have it in him to care. 

"Now I hope, for all your sake, that you get it now. That you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you? That is over now. Just a few more orders of business." 

He turned and walked over to where Merle lay on the ground, eyes fixed on something in the distance and jaw tight. Negan crouched, and sucked his lower lip between his teeth. "Now, Merle. Here's the thing. I don't hurt kids if I don't have to, and my boy Rick over there- I knew he wouldn't make me have to. Now, you defied me while I was tryin' to teach someone a lesson, and that- that is not good. However," he glanced down at Merle and lifted his eyebrows. "I admire a man who has principles and sticks to them. So here is what we're gonna do. You are gonna get a pass for today, because you, my friend, held up like a champ, in the face of all this. But you're gonna have to spend a few nights on shit duty, if you know what I mean." 

He patted Merle's face and rose with a grunt. "Help him up, boys. Dwight! Load his brother up," he added, and pointed that bat right at Daryl's face. Merle paled as he stood, but Daryl barely fought as Dwight hauled him up and shoved him in the back of the van again. 

It was what he deserved. 

Sorry, woman. See ya in the next life.


	23. In the Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> references to past abuse  
> sexual references

Dark. Cold. Hard fuckin' floors, hard fuckin' walls. 

And that goddamn song, over and over and over again. 

Weren't no fuckin' easy street, that's for damn sure. But he didn't give a shit. Didn't care about the cold, or the dark, or hell, the dog food sandwiches. Not after the first one, not after he took the hits and figured out it'd be an easier goddamn street to just eat 'em. 

Hell, Daryl'd eaten worse before. 

Maybe. It was hard to remember a before. 

He didn't want to remember before, maybe that was it. Because he deserved this, deserved this goddamn cell and the cold floor and the cheerful song slowly driving him mad more than he'd deserved anything else in his whole fuckin' life, for what he did to Glenn. To Maggie. To his girl. 

No, he couldn't think about her. Wouldn't think about her. Didn't deserve to think about her. 

But he deserved the cold floor, cold walls, cold air on every inch of his skin- 

He weren't afraid of being naked. Not like most would, not like his girl would have been. He didn't care what they did to his body; people been doin' things to him he didn't want them to for most of his life. Half the time he wasn't sure his body was his own anyway. Only thing that's ever bothered him was feeling exposed, having the scars on him shown to people. He didn't want anyone's pity, and until her, pity's all he ever got for opening up about those. 

Pity wasn't really an option here, though. 

 

 

"We're on Easy Street. And it feels so sweet."

He lost track of time pretty damn fast when they threw him in there. It could have been days, could have been weeks, could have been years for all he knew. He'd say it could have just been hours, but he was pretty fuckin' certain they wouldn't feed him that often, even if it was just dog food and moldy bread. 

Whatever, he'd eaten worse before. 

Yeah, he was pretty sure. Like that god-awful day on the road, sometime after losing Beth and before getting his girl back, when they'd all been starving and dying of thirst. He'd seen his girl carryin' Little Ass-kicker, and the baby was slumped in her arms, listless and exhausted looking. His girl was barely on her feet, and hell if he knew how she was upright- her eyes were huge and smudged with circles under 'em so bad it looked like she'd gone ten rounds with his old man. Her cheeks had been hollow, lips dry and cracked and not even bleeding, like she didn't have enough damn water in her system for blood to flow. So thin a soft breeze would have blown her right over. 

He'd headed into the woods, lookin' for something, anything, he could take back to them, give to her. He'd turned up nothin' but an already-dead, chewed-on possum carcass. Daryl wouldn't have given that to the group, but he ate some of it himself. 

Didn't give a shit if he got sick and died, long as he got them somewhere safe first. 

Yeah, that was the worst thing he'd ever eaten. 

 

 

"'Cause the world is but a treat when you're on Easy Street!" 

World ain't never been a treat for Daryl. Song didn't bother him, or the volume, so much as the damn unpredictability of it. It'd go off in the middle, filling the room with a silence that made him flinch. Then he'd start to fall asleep, eyes finally closing, and it'd start up all over again, at the beginning or the end or just right where it left off. 

Daryl could sleep through damn near anything- growing up sharing a room with Merle's sawing snore and his mamma and daddy's drunken arguments in the background would do that for you- but he never slept deeply, and he woke up when his environment changed. So he could sleep through a thunderstorm, but when the storm ended, he'd wake up. 

Or he could sleep through a goddamn pop song about how easy fuckin' life was for some people at full volume, but if it changed- went on or off- he'd wake up. 

It was the lack of sleep that was gonna get to him before anything else did. 

 

 

"We're on Easy Street!"

He thought he might have been this tired once before, but he wasn't sure. 

He never did sleep much, so days and weeks of snatching a few hours here and there and takin' watch most of the night instead didn't bother him none. Hell, he'd preferred it for awhile. He'd rather be standing on top of that damn RV of Dale's, watching for walkers or deer or what have you, than layin' in some tent suffocating and trusting someone else to keep his redneck ass unbit. 

Besides, Merle had a habit of waking up unexpectedly and rubbin' one out, and after the first time he'd seen his brother with his dick in his hand, that was something Daryl'd wanted to avoid at all fuckin' costs. 

He'd been up on the RV most of the night, and when that asshole Shane had come over, he'd given Daryl a long look and asked him when he'd last slept. Daryl hadn't bothered to respond, just grunted at the guy, and Shane had told him that he didn't wanna see Daryl on the RV the next night, period. 

Daryl'd told him to kiss his ass, he'd do what he wanted, and risked going into the tent to sleep for a couple hours. At sunrise, Merle yelled at him to get his lazy ass up and into the woods, never mind that'd Merle'd been asleep all night and Daryl had been down for maybe three hours, at the most. He'd grumbled and followed his brother, knowing the group of 'em were going through food like crazy and the little ones needed to eat. 

He'd ditched Merle somewhere along the way and headed off on his own, climbing up a tree to sit and watch and wait for a deer to come by. He'd found this spot a few days back, and there were tracks from several directions. It was just off the lake, so he figured the critters would come out for a drink eventually, and Daryl'd be able to strike. 

'Course, he fuckin' fell asleep, and he didn't wake up until a gunshot scared the shit out of him and he fell on his ass out of the tree, his brother laughing like a damn loon at him as he strolled out of the woods and stood over the doe he'd dropped. 

Asshole shot one deer and thought he was king of the goddamn camp, and Daryl caught shit about falling asleep and falling out of the tree for days.


	24. A Shallow Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> references to past rape/ non con  
> references to past child abuse

"Every sweet refrain repeats right here on easy street..." 

The first time he caught himself singing along he'd laughed at himself a little, calling himself an idiot. That was maybe the third time the damn song had played, before the first of the dog food sandwiches, before the first beating. 

Before they'd blindfolded him and led him out, stripping him down and patching up his shoulder before shoving him back into the hole, and he heard them laughing as they slammed the door and the lock clicked. They hadn't taken the blindfold off, but they hadn't tied him up either, so he ripped the thing off his eyes and stared out into the darkness still. 

They hadn't given him his clothes back. But hell, what did it matter anyway? Anything they could dish out he'd take, no question. 

Before he could stop it, he wondered if this was anything like how his girl had felt, when the Governor had her. That sudden spike of fear even he'd felt when someone had yanked his pants down and laughed- he wondered if she'd- 

He shut the thought down, shut it out, knowing she'd had it so much worse. He couldn't think about that; not then, not now. Not if he wanted to make it through this. 

Did he want to make it through this? 

 

"We're breaking out the good champagne. I'm sittin' pretty on a gravy train." 

It was his brother who opened the door this time, not that dick whose face Daryl was just waiting for the chance to fuck up even worse than it already was. He jerked back, startled, and Merle just looked at him where he was curled in the corner. He'd had his head on his knees, trying desperately to get some sleep while the goddamn song played. 

Daryl knew he probably looked fuckin' rough, dirty and bloody and banged up from the beating he'd taken when he'd refused to eat something around seven- or maybe eight? fuck if he knew- dog food sandwiches ago. But Merle looked worse. 

Half his brother's face was black and blue and he had a long scrape- like you'd get from eatin' gravel in a crash- on the other side. He moved like it hurt when he sunk down on his heels, favoring the bruised-up side of his body. He put the plate beside Daryl with the sandwich on it, and Daryl reached out automatically and took a bite. 

"Brother, they're gonna give you a chance to end this," Merle said softly, and Daryl stared blankly as he took a bite. "Take it. Trust me. Do it for her." 

That was the wrong thing to fuckin' say, and Daryl moved his eyes to a spot behind his brother's head as the song started blaring again. He flinched at the noise, he couldn't help it, and his brother let out a long sigh. 

"Don't be an asshole, baby brother. I love ya, man," Merle whispered, and then he was gone and the lock was clicking. 

 

""Cause the world is but a treat-" 

The music cut off abruptly as the door opened, and the light and the noise and the suddenness of it all made Daryl flinch back. 

He'd started trembling a while ago, maybe three sandwiches ago? He couldn't stop it, and it got worse as the asshole slid him the plate across the floor. Daryl's hand shook and the sandwich fell apart as he lifted it, but he took the required bite. 

He remembered Rick stopping Carl from eating dog food once. He and Rick and Carl and his girl, they'd been clearing out some fuckin' shack, first one they'd seen in days. None of them spoke, 'cause they didn't have to anymore, and it took too damn much energy anyway. Kid had been grateful for a few bites of squirrel that Daryl'd been able to kill a full day before, and that'd been it since the snake the day previous. They hadn't found anything in the damn place, like Daryl'd known they wouldn't. 

Daryl'd been thinking about digging for worms or some shit- a Dixon Sunday staple when things got this bad when he'd been growing up- when he'd heard the thud. 

He looked over at Rick and Carl, and Carl was looking down at two cans of dog food on the floor like they were a feast, and Rick had that look like he'd failed the whole world in his eyes. 

Rick didn't know what failure was. Rick hadn't gotten anyone fuckin' killed, not like Daryl had. He'd gotten Beth killed, gotten Hershel killed- yeah, that was on him too, because he hadn't made damn sure the Governor was dead; hadn't see to it with his own hands, no matter what his girl had said- gotten Carl and his girl in danger from those Claimer assholes, gotten his brother's hand chopped off by not goin' into Atlanta to keep an eye on him, gotten Denise and Abraham killed by not killing Dwight when he had the chance. 

Gotten Glenn killed by not controlling his damn temper. 

The bundle of something hit him in the face and he jerked, but the door was already slamming shut.


	25. Left In the Darkened Room

"To a life that can't be beat, right here on Easy Street." 

It'd been clothes. 

Gross, dirty, sweaty clothes that obviously belonged to a series of someones else before they'd been thrown in his lap, but still. He'd pulled them on and some of the trembling had eased, so maybe he'd just been too fuckin' cold. 

He thought he'd been colder before, that winter when they were starving and running from one place to another, but at least then he'd had his girl at his side. 

He kept tryin' not to think of her, trying not to think of any of them. Hell, he was just trying not to think, period. But what the fuck else was there to do in the endless damn darkness while that song blasted him out of his mind? Only relief he got was in letting his mind wander to the good shit, if it could. 

Like her, cuddled in his lap while they kept watch together. It was stupid and impractical, and if anything had come they might have gotten everyone killed. But she'd been cold and he- well, he just wanted her close, as close as she could be. 

She'd had her head on his shoulder, her fingers in blood-crusted gloves combing through the hair at the base of his neck. Neither of them said anything, but when she shivered a little, he'd shrugged out of his vest and wrapped it around her. She'd scowled at him, but he'd smiled a little at her until she sighed and finally shoved her arms through. 

She'd worn it all that day, and he'd smiled every time he saw it. If the damn thing hadn't been Merle's, and she hadn't been so stubborn about him needing the extra layer the next night, he'd have made her keep it. 

 

"When you're on Easy Street!" 

Now his vest was on the asshole's back, and the fuckin' dick was grabbing Daryl's arm and shoving him out of the cell. 

This was it. Daryl was probably about to go die, but at least he wasn't in that room or in the dark or hearing that damn song. Hell, it was good to move around, even if the asshole did have a fistful of Daryl's shirt at his neck and Daryl's own crossbow at his back. 

"Carson," Dwight said as he shoved Daryl into a doctor's room. Sherry, the girl- Dwight's girl, if Daryl remembered correctly- was sitting there on the exam table, in a pretty dress and clean, and Daryl felt the hitch in Dwight's step. 

"We were just finishing up," the doctor said mildly from where he stood beside the girl. 

"Hi, D," Sherry said, standing. 

"Hey," Dwight grunted, and Daryl wondered what the fuck was going on. 

Then she looked at him. "Daryl, right?" she asked, and Daryl flinched away even as Dwight snapped at her. 

"Don't talk to him," he said, and shoved Daryl over to the exam table. Daryl sat, eyes on his bare feet, saying nothing. 

"It's negative," Sherry mumbled, and Daryl glanced up at that without moving his head, noticed the relief on Dwight's face. 

"Well, maybe next time," Dwight said, and everyone there knew his heart wasn't in it. 

The girl stepped over to him, and Daryl went back to contemplating his own dirty toes. He'd learned the hard way not to talk to anyone, when he'd tried talking to the asshole who opened the door and gave him the first dog food sandwich. And then the second one. 

Eat, stay still, and keep fuckin' quiet. 

"Whatever they tell you, just do it," she said quietly, and Dwight the asshole jumped all over her again. 

The doctor looked at his shoulder when the girl left. "It'll get better. If you let it. Negan will take care of you. Trust me." 

 

 

On the way back to the cell, he watched the man moping cringe out of the way, and then suddenly he was being shoved to his knees, Dwight hitting the deck behind him. 

"Dwighty boy!" 

Goddamn Negan. The rage rose in him like a black wave and he almost lashed out again right there, almost went for the asshole's head, but his brother was at Negan's side. His brother, with the scrapes mostly healed, but the bruises still standing out sharp against his face- almost like there were more of them, or fresher ones. 

He saw Glenn's head being beaten in by the bat in the asshole's hand, and Daryl couldn't- he couldn't get Merle killed. 

His girl would never forgive him for that. Not after she'd thought he was dead already. 

Dwight shoved him into a chair and some fat prick drew a gun and aimed it at his face, and Daryl just stared at it silently. Waiting. 

He looked behind the asshole with the gun, staring into a room with a bed, a chair, a tiny kitchen, and books. He was so damn tired, that bed looked fuckin' inviting. Then Dwight was back and shoving back into the damn shithole and he was in the dark again. 

"We're on Easy Street!"


	26. It Has Grown

"I'm sittin' pretty on the gravy train." 

Door opened, but no dog food sandwich on moldy bread this time. Just Dwight's fucked-up face, grabbing him by the collar again and shoving him out of the room. 

Room? Hell, it was a fuckin' closet, let's be honest. 

Sunlight was blinding and he stumbled over the threshold as Dwight shoved him. He heard the laughter and he blinked rapidly, eyes watering as he tried to adjust to the brightness. 

"Move, asshole," Dwight said, giving him another shove, and he stumbled down the stairs. At least his eyes were clearing finally, but hell- that might have been worse. 

There were a couple assholes dressed in the same fucked-up clothes as he was, outside the fence Dwight shoved him toward. They were struggling with a walker, more of the undead fuckers suck on spears and other pointy walker traps along the fence. What the hell were they doing? 

He was watching, actually worried for one of the assholes who struggled with a walker, when Dwight fired his crossbow through the fence and took out the walker. Daryl flinched as he heard it fire from beside him. 

"You know, I think I'm getting the hand of this thing," the asshole said, holding up his crossbow with a smile. When Daryl didn't respond, Dwight grabbed him by the back of the neck and shoved his face up against the fence, pointing to the fresh walker the others had chained to some bricks. 

"That's you, asshole. Unless you're smart. Your choice. You could be like them, or me." 

Like that was a fuckin' choice. He'd rather be rotting away grabbing for brains out there than be anything like this asshole. 

"Where's my brother?" he asked, taking a chance. Dwight shoved his face into the fence again, hard. 

"Don't fuckin' speak, asshole, or didn't you learn that lesson already?" 

It'd been worth the shot. Then, to Daryl's surprise, Dwight leaned in and spoke in a rapid whisper. 

"He's fine. Took a beating a couple of times over pushing too hard to help you, but Negan likes him for some reason. Big man is keeping him close. Do him a favor if you won't do yourself one. Make the right choice." 

Then the asshole was jerking him back, marching him inside, and tossing him into the cell again. This time, he stood in the doorway for a moment, not looking at Daryl. 

"Make it easy on yourself," he said. 

Daryl snorted. "I ain't ever gonna kneel." 

"Yeah, I said that too," Dwight said sadly. 

"I know." 

Dwight sighed and shook his head. "See, that's the thing, man. You don't. But you're gonna. You care about your brother? Bout your friends? Got a girl or a guy? Yeah. You're gonna."

"We're on Easy Street...." 

 

 

"Oh cause life is such a treat, when we're on Easy Street!" 

He shouldn't have mentioned Daryl's girl. Now Daryl was fighting, knowing he had to get the fuck out of here. This Negan asshole could go back at any time, kill more of his friends. Go to Alexandria, kill his girl. 

He didn't want Negan anywhere near his girl. 

 

"Let's have a moment in the sun; the magic's only just begun!" 

It was the fat prick this time, holding a sandwich he'd already taken a bite out of. Daryl took it anyway, music blasting the tail end of the song. It stopped as the guy watched Daryl take a bite and rolled his eyes. 

He closed the door, and Daryl didn't hear the lock.


	27. Alone

"It's time to have a little fun." 

It was a trap, and he knew it was a trap. He wasn't an idiot; just desperate. So he went anyway. 

He made it into the courtyard, to a row of bikes, before they surrounded him and the bastard with the bat came strolling out. 

"Who are you?" he asked, pointing at each of the assholes surrounding him. 

"Negan," they all answered, one by one. 

What the fuck? 

"You see that? I am everywhere. Where's my Merle?" Negan called, and Daryl's brother stepped around the corner. 

"Here, bossman." 

"Who are you, Merle?" Negan asked, staring at Daryl with that smug grin. There was a long pause, and Daryl didn't look at his brother. He knew what Merle was going to say, and he was right. 

"I'm Negan, boss." 

"Hell yes you are. And this was your chance, asshole, to prove to me that the fundamental fact of my omnipotence was sinking in, which you have failed utterly. And that is a shame, because your life was about to get so much cooler. Am I right?" 

"You're so right," the fat bastard said with a smirk. 

"Now Dwight gave you some options. I don't think you get it yet. So, I'm gonna break it down for you. You got three choices: One, you wind up on the spike and you work for me as a dead man. Two, you get out of your cell, you work for points, but you're gonna wish you were dead. Or three, you work for me, you get yourself a brand-new pair of shoes, and you live like a king! Choice seems pretty obvious. You should know, there is no door number four. Merle, which is the better choice there, my friend?" 

"Door number three, bossman, ain't no question."

"This is it. This is the only way," Negan said with a glance at Merle. Daryl kept his eye contact, saying nothing. Negan chuckled. "Aw, screw it," he said, and lunged forward, swinging that bat toward Daryl's head. 

Daryl didn't move a muscle. Merle's raucous laugh filled the courtyard. 

"Told ya my brother ain't no little bitch," he drawled, and Negan looked over his shoulder at Merle with a grin. 

"He don't scare easy, does he? I love that. But Lucille? It kinda pisses her off. She finds it to be- disrespectful. Lucky for you, she's not feeling too thirsty today." He leaned in close. "But I am. So I'm gonna go get me a drink!" He finished with a laugh and a grin. 

"Merle!" Negan called as he walked off, and Daryl's brother gave him a long, sad look as he turned and walked away while the asshole whistled. 

And then the beating started. 

 

"Oh life is but a treat when you're on Easy Street!"

Her words echoed in his mind as he sat in the dark, body aching.

"Go back while you can. You know I did. Whatever he's done to you, there's always more. You won't get away. And when you're back, it'll be worse." Dwight's woman, Sherry, had found him before he made it outside. She'd tried to warn him. 

Daryl didn't give a shit. He had to take the chance. 

He just hoped he hadn't made it any worse for Merle. 

The music cut off. He relaxed into the silence for just a minute, then jumped when he saw the shadows under the crack in the door.

"Daryl?" Sherry's voice was soft. "There's so many things I wish I never found out. I wish I didn't try. Back in the woods- after I lost Tina. When we took your stuff, when we decided to go back- I told you I was sorry. You said 'you're gonna be'. Well, I am." 

 

"Let's have a moment in the sun!"

He didn't take the sandwich this time. He threw it at the asshole's fucked up face instead.

So Dwight left him with the knowledge that Negan had taken a shine to him and a Polaroid shot of what was left of Glenn. 

And Daryl broke. But only for awhile.


	28. Nobody

It was silent for a long time. So long Daryl actually fell the fuck asleep, after he'd puked up some dog food sandwich in the corner and sobbed for awhile. 

Dwight shoved him into the room, the one with the bed and the comfortable chair, and there was Negan. Daryl was gonna kill the bastard some day. Like Rick had said- not today, not tomorrow. But someday. 

"Jesus," Negan said as he rose. "You look awful. We'll have Carson fix you up." 

He handed Daryl a glass of water and told him to drink, told Dwight to get him a straw. Daryl just held the glass, ignoring the bastard for the most part. Daryl was good at ignoring assholes. 

"Believe it or not, things weren't always cool between us," Negan was saying, gesturing between him and Dwight as the asshole dropped a straw into the glass in Daryl's hand. "D here- he worked for points, him and his super hot wife and her super hot sister. But see, sis, she needed meds. And that shit is hard to scavenge, so it cost more. Sis fell behind on points, so I asked her to marry me." 

Daryl twitched a little at that, wondering where this was going. He just up and asked some girl to marry him, like that? As- what, payment? 

"Told her I would take care of her in sickness and in health, blah blah blah, because I am a stand-up guy. She tells me that she's gonna think about it. Next thing you know, I'm dealing with an orange situation! Dwighty boy here stole all the medication, and took off with his super hot wife and my super hot maybe soon-to-be fiancee! So I had to send my guys after him. Because I can't let something like that stand. There are rules. Cost me an arm and a leg going after him. And you know what? Dwighty boy- he still got away. But here's the thing. D- he saw the light. He manned up. He came back. He asked for my forgiveness! I like that. Made me... take notice." Negan stepped closer and lifted his bat. 

"But Lucille? Well, you know how she is. She is a stickler for the rules. So Dwight, he begged me not to kill Sherry, which I thought was kinda cute, so I was just gonna kill him. But then Sherry says that she will marry me if I let Dwight live, which if you think about it, that's a pretty screwed up deal, cause I was gonna marry her sister until she wound up dead, but.... Sherry is super hot." 

This asshole was the worst kind of asshole, and Daryl thanked whoever- J.C. or God or the devil himself, maybe Buddha for all Daryl know- that the asshole hadn't met his girl. 

"Anyways, it was a start. But it wasn't enough. So Dwight- he got the iron. And then I married his super hot wife. Sorry, ex-wife. And then after all that, he still got on board. And now look at him! Pow! One of my top guys! And we are totally cool." 

Daryl fuckin' doubted that. Seemed like maybe this asshole was just biding his time, same as Daryl. Protecting his girl by towing the line, like Merle was trying to protect Daryl. Like Daryl would have done for his girl. 

Naw. Daryl would've just killed himself to keep his girl out of this situation. 

"The point being, I think you can be that guy. I'll admit, I only spared your life because of the deal I worked out with your very useful brother. You actually landed a pretty good shot on my fine face, and I can not have that, no sir. But you- you are something special, like your brother. You got balls, man. I like that. I think you are ready to be that guy. Look around here. This? Can be all yours. All you gotta do is answer one simple question- who are you?" 

Daryl stared at the ground, silent. Negan walked slowly over and got in his face, the smile gone. Daryl didn't move. 

"I'm gonna ask you one more time. Who.. are you?" 

Finally he looked into the asshole's face. 

"Daryl." 

 

Dwight shoved him into the cell, yelling at him. "You're gonna end up in that room, or on the fence!" 

"I get why you took it," Daryl said softly, looking at the guy. "You were thinking about someone else. That's why I can't." 

 

We're on Easy Street, and it feels so sweet!


	29. Not Let It Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

They shoved him into the back of the truck next to his brother, whose face looked a little better at least. That was some comfort. 

He knew where they were going. He just hoped Rick had the sense to keep his girl out of sight somewhere. Send her off on her own into the woods, maybe- 

Naw, he hated the idea of that, too. 

Keep her close, then, but somewhere out of Negan's sight. Just another townsperson. Yeah, Rick would do that. Rick would make her see that was the safest road to take. 

He kept right on believing that until the moment he saw her. 

 

He saw Rick before he saw her, and that was damn near bad enough. His friends' eyes were red rimmed and he was pale, pale enough for Daryl to see that however long it'd been since Negan'd forced him to his knees? It wasn't long enough for Rick to recover. 

Daryl couldn't believe he didn't even know how long it'd been. 

Rick looked at him for a long moment, and Daryl tried to look back, to tell his friend without words that he was ok, so Rick could pass that message on to his girl. But between the light and the swelling on his face and the deafening absence of that damn song and the way he was already conditioned not to look someone in the eyes- he tried to look back at Rick, but he eyes kept sliding away and Daryl could feel the tremor in his own body, but as if from afar. Like it was someone else. 

Then Rick turned his head, just a quick look past the gate, and Daryl's heart stopped. 

Negan was bein' the showoff asshole he usually was- his girl's voice echoed in his head, uttering about dramatic sons of bitches- and Daryl flinched for Rick when Negan shoved the bat into his friend's hands. Little did Daryl know that would be the easiest part of the day to deal with. 

Dwight shoved him forward and into the place when Negan gave his brother that look and called for his pack mule. That was all Daryl was to him today, just a set of arms and legs in servitude, sent as a message to Rick. Daryl knew that, and he was ok with it. 

He wasn't ok with being a message to his girl. Merle's presence was going to be bad enough for that. 

He saw her immediately, out of the corner of his eye, and he used every damn ounce of self control he had not to run straight for her. She stood like she was rooted to the spot, just as pale as Rick, and too damn thin. He could tell even from this distance, even only sneaking glances from the corner of his eye and out from under his hair, that she wasn't eating. 

He was so focused on not going to her, not screwing up and giving away who she was to him, that when Dwight grabbed his arm, he flinched back. He couldn't help it, and the tremor got worse. Then Dwight turned, and suddenly Daryl's girl was motion in the corner of his eye. He looked over and she was striding toward him, and he hated himself for how badly he wanted her to be close enough for him to touch. 

She needed to get out of here while she still could, and he huffed out a bit in relief when Rick got in her way with a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. He couldn't see Rick's face, but he could see his girl's, and the icy rage in her eyes never changed. 

Then Negan walked up to her and Daryl forgot how to breathe. 

 

The asshole ran his mouth and leered at his girl, but it wasn't until he grabbed her chin that Daryl lunged forward against Dwight's hand. He saw his brother and Rick both do the same, and his girl just held her hand up, stopping all three of them in their tracks. 

He saw his brother shift a little, saw the way Merle's shoulders tightened and he looked ready for a fight. He saw the way Rick stared at the ground, with his jaw and his grip on the bat fighting for which was stronger. 

"Now, I am going to make you an offer that I do not make lightly, sweetheart. I would love to take you to bed with me, wherever you'd like for that to happen and just as often as you'd like for it to happen, darlin'."

Daryl knew it was a mistake; knew he was playing right into what he didn't want to happen, but when the bastard told Daryl's girl he wanted to take her to bed with him, Daryl took a swing at Dwight, unable to think about anything but that bastard having his hands on his girl. Dwight got him in a headlock as his girl came around the prick and shot him a 'stop that right now, you idiot' look. 

He could hear her calling him an asshole in his head, and he stopped struggling. Merle'd been on his way to her side when she'd held her hand up again and given Daryl the glare, and now she just looked exasperated as Negan looked from him to Merle and to Rick's strained face and chuckled. 

"Now, based on the reactions of all three of my favorite people back there, you are one mighty important woman for me to know. So- who the hell are you again?" He whispered the last to Daryl's girl, standing beside her and holding his gaze on Daryl. 

Daryl didn't meet his eyes, just watched from the corners of his as his girl shrugged. 

"YN," she said. "YN Dixon."

He felt a flash of pride at the way she claimed his name, and when Negan guessed every other possibility but that she was Daryl's girl, he wanted to smile at the way she handled him. Wanted to, but couldn't. 

Because when she'd told Rick not to worry and then looked at Daryl and said the same thing, the bastard had gotten in her face and told her not to even look at him. Daryl wasn't about to press anything and get her hurt. He'd just do as he was told, look at no one, and be the pack mule. Keep his girl alive. 

The best moment he had was watching his girl run to his brother and the way his brother grabbed on to her just as hard. The second best was when she took a swing at him, more for letting his maybe-last words to her be about her punching him than over any real urge to do so. Daryl got that; he'd wanted to do the same thing.

Merle'd get her out of here safe. Merle knew how to take care of what was most important to Daryl.


	30. Long Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussions of past and threatened rape/non con   
> mentions of past abuse

Negan tucked his girl's hand in his elbow and started to stroll off, calling for Merle to bring his pack mule along. Daryl waited with his head down for Merle to grab him by the arm, and his brother's fingers dug into his skin tightly enough that he was grateful, since it grounded him to the moment. 

He had to stay sharp, had to stay alert, so he could keep his girl and Rick safe. Keep them alive in any way he could, even if it was just throwing himself into the path of that asshole's bat to buy them a few seconds to run. 

"Don't do anything stupid, baby brother. She can handle this asshole, but she cain't be worrying about your reactions while she's doin' it," Merle whispered as he shoved Daryl along.

 

Negan mocking Rick was almost worse than him walking around with Daryl's girl on his arm. It wasn't that seeing his girl that close to the asshole didn't scare the shit out of him, or that the way Negan kept saying crude and obnoxious things to her didn't piss him the hell off, 'cause it did. But she could handle it. 

She was handling it, and handling Negan far better than anyone could have expected- maybe even better than Negan himself expected. Asshole was used to making people uncomfortable, making people scared, and there was his girl, strolling on Negan's arm and asking questions because she 'wouldn't want to cause any problems accidentally'. 

Yeah, Daryl heard the subtle undertone that if she caused problems, it would damn well be intentional, and Negan heard it too. Daryl knew from the way the asshole looked at him and pursed his lips in a silent whistle when his girl's back was turned. 

It wasn't his girl he was scared for the most right now, though, it was Rick. Rick was silent most of the time, walking by Negan's side, but Daryl saw his friend's grip on that damn bat. Rick might have been cowed, but he didn't want to be. He was terrified of Negan, and Rick Grimes? Terrified? Hell no. That wasn't normal. 

Daryl was pretty sure the only time he'd ever seen Rick truly scared was on his knees while this asshole was telling him to cut off Carl's arm or everyone died. 

The video camera gave Daryl a bit of a pause. He didn't know what kind of shit his brother had been telling Negan, but he did know that those interviews might blow any the lid off any lies Merle'd told. But a glance at Merle showed his face was calm with his asshole smile in place. 

Merle was freaking him the fuck out too, come to think of it. Acting more like the brother Daryl knew before he lost his damn hand than the brother Daryl'd come to know and love since he got them away from the Governor. Daryl hoped it was a fucking act and that Merle had a fucking plan to get them the hell out of this. 

When the asshole started talking about not messing with the Rick on the video and his girl chimed in, Daryl could tell she hadn't meant to. He could read her well, knew when she was thinking about a problem too hard and things just shot out of her mouth. But she rolled with it, talking about the time Rick had ripped out the Claimer's throat with his teeth. 

Rick flinched at the memory, but his girl looked proud. Negan looked turned the fuck on when she met his eyes and told him it was threatening Carl that made him do it. 

When the asshole asked what she did, and Merle told him about her slitting the guy's throat, Daryl wasn't sure whether he wanted to thank his brother or punch him. Sure, Negan seemed fucking impressed with his girl, but the asshole didn't like threats to his strength. 

Or maybe Daryl was wrong. 

"Excuse the fuck out of me, darlin', but I am glad as hell that you are not the one my boys encountered first. If I were not so goddamn attracted to you, I would be killing you right were you stand, because you- that you? You scare the ever lovin' shit outta me." 

Negan was dead serious, Daryl saw it, serious as he'd been when told Rick that their trip in the RV was about the way Rick looked at him. Serious as he'd been when he'd grabbed Daryl by the hair and told him that the shit Daryl pulled didn't fly. 

Daryl couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't do a damn thing but wait as this asshole decided if he was going to kill Daryl's girl right there. 

 

Maggie was dead. There were three fresh graves, none of them marked, and the aching feeling of emptiness inside Daryl grew as he looked down at them. 

He'd gotten Maggie killed too. 

He wasn't ashamed of the tears that slipped from his eyes, but he was grateful that nobody saw them. His brother's hand was gripping his arm hard, and Daryl wanted to know what that meant, but what did it matter anymore? 

He'd gotten Glenn killed, and seeing that killed Maggie, which meant it killed their baby too. 

Another fuckin' baby Daryl couldn't protect like he should have. 

After that, what was the point of him even trying to pay attention? There was no way out. Negan's attention was on his girl, and if his little story about Dwight and Sherry was any indication, he'd have her in his bed before too much longer. 

Daryl knew she wouldn't go willingly, but Negan owned Daryl and Merle. If she'd given herself to the Governor to spare Maggie, she'd go to a life of being raped by this asshole and having to pretend to like it with a smile on her face to save even one of the two of them. It'd kill her, leave her the broken and beaten down thing he'd only ever glimpsed in her worst moments, but she'd go and she'd tell herself it was worth it. 

Daryl knew it wasn't worth it. Merle wasn't worth it, and he loved his damn brother more than he loved himself. God only knew Daryl himself wasn't worth it. 

He'd gotten her friends killed, and gotten her under this asshole's attention to begin with. 

He began making plans to get himself killed as soon as they were away from her. Maybe if he was out of the equation, she wouldn't have to throw herself under the knife like he knew she eventually would.

Even if losing him destroyed her for awhile, she was strong. She'd have Rick and Carl and Tara and the others, maybe even Merle if he played his cards right, to get her through. It was worth it. 

Unlike him. 

 

 

He was pretty sure he was going to die right then when the asshole pointed the gun at him, but damn if he was going to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. He only wanted one thing before he went, and he could do that easy. 

He shot one quick look at his girl, just enough to see her face one more time, and then looked away. 

He didn't flinch when the gun went off, and his feet kept moving and he kept breathing, so what do you know? Maybe he wasn't dead after all.


	31. You're the Best Moment I've Ever Known

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussion of past rape/non con  
> mention of possible future rape/non con  
> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> suicidal-esque thoughts? Not sure how to tag Daryl's mindset here

He'd been wrong about what the worst part was.

The worst part was standing there against the wall next to his brother while that asshole asked his girl personal questions, and seeing the anguish in her eyes and the tightness in her jaw in the quick glances he allowed himself. 

"Ok, that is not the whole story. What happened to turn Merle against the man he was working for? Because my man Merle there? His hatred for Rick is real. Or at least, it was. I'm uncertain of how much of what Merle told me was the honest-to-God truth, but that? That was some genuine hate for Ricky-boy," Negan said to his girl, and Daryl's heart pounded as he listened to them. He knew where this was going, but what he didn't know was just how sick a fuck this Negan asshole was.

She glared at the guy and Daryl wondered if she was treading too close to the damn line, snapping out at him, "The Governor threatened to rape Maggie and I. I saw that he was going to make good on the threat, so I took it, to spare Maggie. When Merle found out, he tried to help us, especially after he learned I was Daryl's girl. The Governor did some fucked up shit, including pitting me and Daryl against Merle in death match in front of a bunch of civilians screaming for our blood. We got out; Merle came with us. Merle is a man of many levels, including extreme assholery and extreme heroism. Don't mistake who you have on your side, Negan. Don't take him for granted."

Trust his woman to try to keep his brother safe even as she ripped open old wounds. Daryl's resolve to take himself out of the equation just strengthened as he watched her struggle. 

Then Negan fucking surprised him again. "One thing I will not abide- I do not suffer any motherfucking pencil dick rapists to live, and the idea of you, sweetheart? Oh hell no. I'd be on my way to Georgia right the fucking damn now filled with some extreme disappointment in your people if you told me he had lived. Good on you, darlin', for getting your own. Damn."

Huh. Daryl eyed Negan for a minute, wondering if he could push the asshole a little further. There was so much genuine respect for his girl in the man's face right then, Daryl could almost forget who this bastard was. Daryl respected the hell out of his girl, too, and anyone who looked at her like that- like she was the damn warrior queen she was- automatically rose in his estimation. 

The words came out before he thought about them too hard, and then he was kicking himself as he saw the shocked tears spring into her eyes and slide down her face at the sound of his voice. 

"Should hear what she did to her ex before all this shit started."

He'd wasted his only shot to say something to her on that. Giving the bastard an opening. He felt the punch to his soul as she turned a broken-hearted glare on him, not hearing Negan's words because he didn't give a fuck what the bastard had to say. He gave a fuck about the look in his girl's eyes, the devastation and anger in them. 

Sorry, woman. He was tryin' to help her. Make that respect he saw in Negan grow; keep her safe. 

"You have one chance to speak and that's what you say?" she snarled out at him, and he accepted the stab to his heart, accepted that that was maybe the last thing he'd ever hear her say directly to him, because that's what he deserved. 

He was suddenly grateful that he'd slipped out however many mornings ago without saying anything to her. It meant his last words to her would be what he'd whispered in her ear as he held her close in the pale early light of a false dawn, nonsense babbling of how much he loved her, how much he needed her. Words he meant with all his heart, things he never could express when he wasn't washed away in the glow of her, of being with her. 

Thank God that was what he'd leave her with, even if it took awhile for her to remember it. 

 

Trust his girl to shoot off her mouth to the most dangerous man in the room and nearly get herself killed trying to protect someone else. When she'd started to walk away at the sound of Enid's voice, Daryl had been sure Negan was going to pull that gun out of his belt and shoot her right there in front of him, and it was only Merle's grip on his arm that kept Daryl from tackling the bastard to the ground. 

But she pulled it off, like she always seemed to do, showing she knew how the fuckin' bastard thought even better than she realized. He saw the look in her eyes in the seconds before Negan started pulling her along with him, toward the noise. She'd been damn certain she was dead, just like he was. 

Merle drug him along in their wake, and Daryl did his best not to let the pounding of his heart show, but there was his girl, squared off with some bald jerkoff, and Negan wasn't doin' anything. He was standing there watching with that little smirk, and he shot Daryl a look. Daryl's eyes darted away, but he watched from the corner of his eye as Negan licked his lips and chuckled a little. Negan took a step toward him as he girl told the asshole to pick on someone his own size. 

"Now, I thought my lovely wife Sherry had some fire, but goddamn, son. This woman? She is fire!" Negan said to him, pitching his voice so it was just Daryl and Merle who could hear. "Man's gotta be careful with her- she'll have his balls in her pocket in no time at all. I mean, she's already got yours, and from the look of things, Ricky-dicky's and my boy Merle's too." 

Daryl didn't take his eyes off his girl as she stared down the asshole while Carl hustled Enid off to the side. 

"Don't go too far, kiddo," Negan called to Carl, pointing at him before crossing his arms and going back to watching Daryl's girl. 

The asshole swung at her and she bent like a blade of grass in the wind, that tiny predatory smile she got when she was about to rip someone's guts out hovering over her lips. Daryl tensed, but Merle just started laughing as the asshole swung as she ducked again.

"Ho-ly shee-ut," Negan growled beside him, and Daryl didn't have to look to know the guy was practically drooling over his woman. 

As she whipped in and jerked the asshole off balance, Negan leaned a little closer to Daryl. "I think I might just make a mess in my damn pants watching her move! How do you not stay hard as a rock every minute of every goddamn day? Fuck me!" 

Daryl turned his glare on Negan, forgetting himself for a minute. The asshole was looking at him, tongue between his teeth and grinning. "Careful, pack mule," he drawled, and then his eyes shot back to Daryl's girl. "Shit! Well, I think that's far enough." 

He was striding over to Daryl's girl and Daryl started forward, struggling as Merle wrapped and arm around him and held him in place when Negan grabbed his girl's wrist and snarled at her to drop the knife. 

For a long minute Daryl didn't think she'd do it. He went still enough that Merle let him go, then stepped around his brother. 

"Stay fuckin' still, asshole," Merle snarled at him, hand on his chest, but Daryl's eyes were locked on her. 

He saw the moment she saw him, her eyes meeting his for the first time, and the fight drained out of her. 

She dropped the knife, and he dropped his eyes. 

 

She thought it was him that started toward Negan when he asked her to come back with them and marry him, but it wasn't. 

It was Merle; Merle who'd been holding Daryl back all damn day, keeping his cool and using his influence to help his friends, his family. Merle who was walking an even finer line than she was, and so far had done a better job than Daryl ever would'a believed from his hothead asshole brother. 

"Dixon, stop!" she'd snapped, not moving a muscle, when Merle'd lunged forward, and Daryl had seen Negan's grin. The fucker was happy to see Merle snap a little, happy to have another hold over him, and Daryl lost a little more hope that either of them would get out of this alive. 

At least if he and Merle were gone, his girl wouldn't have a reason to sacrifice herself. 

He saw her think about it, knew she was weighing the risks versus the benefits. Knew she was telling herself it was a show for the asshole; knew by the way her shoulders jerked that she was worried about how he would take her not refusing immediately. 

Hell, he didn't even care. He knew she'd say no, but he knew she'd end up in the asshole's bed- not today, not tomorrow, but someday- if he didn't take some active steps against it. 

She refused finally, and Negan turned into the kind of dick who got petty when he was rejected. It was exactly the response Daryl would've expected, but he didn't push or punish anyone for it. Daryl let himself relax just a little. 

Let himself watch his girl, just a little, until they shoved him into the back of the truck beside Merle and started to pull away, and then he stared. Drank in the sight of her standing strong and proud, trying to hold back the tears he knew were coming, staring back at him and Merle. He looked his fill of her grip on Rick's hand and the way Rick stared after him as well, and Daryl met Rick's eyes for a moment. 

Rick nodded, once, and Daryl knew it was a promise to take care of his girl. He risked a nod back, just as the truck rounded the corner. Then they were gone from his sight, and he craned his neck to try to get one more look. 

It was goodbye, after all.


	32. Maybe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of rape/non con  
> suicidal intentions

Shots rang out from the back of the supply truck and Daryl found himself looking up despite his plans for the day. 

Then he was against the fence, heart in his throat, because that was Carl holding a gun on the Saviors; Carl Negan was smiling at with that predatory look in his eyes; Carl Dwight the asshole was tackling and holding a gun on. 

Daryl'd been planning on throwing himself into a walker's jaws today, but now? Now he had to stay alive so he could maybe help Carl. 

The fuck was the kid thinking? Did his dad or Daryl's girl or anyone know he was there? His girl couldn't have; she'd never have allowed it. 

Or she'd have been in there with him. 

Carl looked up and saw Daryl and looked scared out of his mind as Negan offered him a hand to pull him up. 

"Come on kid. I'll show you around." 

Then Daryl had to duck as a walker got away from another of the poor bastards working for points for Negan like he was, but he was right back on the damn fence when he shoved the thing away, watching Negan hover over Carl and Carl glare back at him. 

"Man, you do the same damn stink eye as your dad and that fine piece of ass your dad should be tappin' but doesn't have the balls to make a move on. But it's only half as good, 'cause you know- you've only got the one eye," Negan said with a chuckle. When Carl still stared at him, making no move to get up, the smile slid from Negan's face. 

"Are you really not gonna take my hand? 'Cause you're lucky you still have a hand. Same as your boy Daryl over here, now that I think about it. Oh, you care about him, don't you? If you care about his woman as much as you do, you've gotta give a hot damn about him, too. How's the job going, Daryl?" Negan called, meeting his eyes and grinning. 

Daryl ignored him, just gave Carl a desperate 'save yourself' look. 

Carl finally let Negan haul him up and Negan started running his mouth. Carl bent down and picked up his damn hat, and Daryl was both proud and pissed off at the kid all at once. 

Dwight grabbed Daryl by the elbow as Negan grinned at them both. "Damn, I am not gonna have time to screw any of my wives today! Well, maybe one." 

Wives. 

Daryl'd already figured out the bastard didn't have a problem 'marrying' more than one woman, since he already had Dwight's girl Sherry but had made a move on Daryl's woman too. Daryl shot Dwight a look as they moved past Negan, but the man's fuck-up face never changed expression. 

At least not until the door clanged shut behind them, and then Dwight whirled on him. 

"That right there, man. That is what I meant. I told you it could get worse. You should have kneeled, before we ever went to your town, man. If you'd kneeled, he wouldn't have his damn sights set so hard on your woman back there! Now he'd gonna kill that kid, just to hurt you all, then he'll make your woman a trade- your damn life or her in his bed. Asshole!" Dwight shoved him, hard, and sent him stumbling a few steps. "Come on, Negan's gonna want refreshments. Let's go." 

 

He walked into the room to see Negan with his tongue down Sherry's throat and Sherry looking like she didn't mind one bit. Dwight's grip on the back of his shirt tightened, but other than that the man didn't show even a moment's response. 

Daryl couldn't have done that. 

He'd never been in this room before, so he took a quick look around, meeting pinched, scared faces in little black dresses and he shivered a little. This was Negan's fucking harem, and this is what Negan wanted from his girl? Hell no. Over Daryl's dead body. 

Which seemed fucking likely. 

Carl was standing there, looking confused and uncomfortable, holding a damn beer bottle in his hand, and the kid gave him a worried look. Daryl caught his eye and tried to tell him not to worry about anyone but him, but he didn't know if it worked. 

Negan sauntered over and stabbed a cube of cheese from the tray Daryl was carrying, and smirked at him. Suddenly Daryl got pissed as hell. 

Carl was a damn kid. A damn kid that didn't know how to keep his head down, but still. And this Negan asshole was threatening him- again. Called his people fuckin' Saviors, said all that shit about not tolerating rapists and not hurting kids, and here he was with his scared to death harem and Carl. 

"Carl, take this tray for me," Negan said, and Carl set down the beer and took the tray from Daryl's hands, and Daryl snapped a little. 

"Why you got him here?" he snarled at Negan, and the asshole's eyebrows shot up as he leaned back. 

 

"Whoa! What is it about you, serial killer? These damn Dixons risk some serious shit for you!" Negan said to Carl, not taking his eyes off Daryl. "What we talk about when you're not here? Is none of your business," he added with a wink. "Do not make me put this toothpick through the only eye he has." 

Fuck. Daryl didn't back down, kept his eyes level on Negan's, but he didn't say anything else either. Negan chuckled a little, tucking the toothpick back in his mouth. 

"What is it about this kid? My man Merle defied me over him. Your hot as hell wife practically dared me to lay a finger on him- what was it she said? Her rule is 'no one fucks with Carl'? Yeah. Damn. I am going to love having her as a wife. Might even give Sherry over there a run for her money as head bitch in charge," he added with a wink for Dwight. "Now go with D. He'll get you a mop. Dwighty boy- fire up that furnace and get Merle. I'll be down in a few. Time for a little deja vu. Come on, kid." 

Daryl watched as Carl followed Negan, face pale and guilty looking. He turned to find Sherry watching both him and Dwight, and he didn't understand the look in her eyes.


	33. Ever to Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> references to past rape/non con

He took the mop and stood waiting by the blazing furnace while people came drifting in- men, women, some of Negan's Saviors and some of his harem. Daryl couldn't bring himself to think of them as wives, especially when the blonde started sobbing when his brother marched in some struggling bastard and tied him to the chair. 

Merle didn't look at Daryl the whole time, but Daryl's eyes narrowed on his brother. There was something about his body language, an edge of what Daryl would have called hopelessness if he hadn't known Merle better. The tied up asshole was shaking and sweating, and he looked at the crying blonde for a long time before fixing his eyes on the furnace. Merle made his way over to Dwight the asshole's side, shooting Daryl one long look that he couldn't read. It sure looked like guilt, but Daryl didn't know why. 

Then the banging sound started and everyone hit their knees, and, well, Daryl did too, because he knew Negan had Carl and Daryl didn't want Carl to pay the price for his stubbornness. So he dropped to his knees- painfully, cause he'd taken a few beatings in the past few days- and dropped his head, staring at the floor. 

The asshole started givin' some damn speech that Daryl didn't fucking listen to, but he felt someone staring at him. He glanced around without moving his head, looking through his hair, and finally saw his brother's eyes fixed on him. His brother looked worried, scared, and guilty all at once. Daryl didn't know what the fuck that was all about, but then Merle looked up, presumably at the asshole Negan, and Daryl followed his brother's gaze- 

Fuck. 

What? What the hell? 

No. No, it couldn't be. 

Daryl forgot to worry about Negan or Dwight or anyone getting punished for his actions, he just stared in disbelief up at where his girl, impossibly, stood there, on Negan's arm again. 

Carl was just behind the two of them, holding that damn bat, and Daryl's rising panic swelled higher. His girl was standing there on Negan's arm, looking out and down at the kneeling crowd with a cold stare like she was the fuckin' queen on the arm of her king, and Daryl felt himself snarling up at the three of them. 

That was his woman, not Negan's. That was their kid, Rick's kid, not Negan's. That bastard had been trying to break Daryl, trying to break all of them, and suddenly Daryl realized how close the asshole had actually gotten to succeeding, at least where he was concerned. No more. Daryl had too damn much to fight for, and most of what he wanted to keep safe was in this damn room with him right now.

He stared as Negan lifted his girl's hand from his arm and whispered something to her, then wandered down the steps and into the crowd, but Daryl wasn't looking at him. He was looking at his girl, and the way she was holding onto the railing with a white-knuckle grip that was the only thing that betrayed the fear and the worry underneath the calm, commanding face she was presenting to the room. Her eyes followed Negan for a moment, and then- 

Then her eyes were locked on his, and he saw her tense like she waiting for a blow to come. So many things rolled through her eyes as she looked at him for that long moment, and he wanted to go to her, to wade his way through a river of these assholes' blood if he had to in order to be by her side. To tell her he was sorry and he loved her, and to take her out of here. 

Fuck it all, Daryl had to live. No matter what, he had to live, to get back to her. 

 

 

Negan took them somewhere, and Daryl was looking around the place with different eyes as he Dwight shoved him back out to the walker-covered fence with the other bastards slaving away out there. He did his job, did as he was told, but now Daryl was watching the guards, the workers, the lay of the land around him. Now Daryl was fighting back, even if only in his mind. 

Then the trucks pulled up to the gate, and he watched them too, wondering where they were going and what they were planning to do with his girl and the kid. When the doors to the factory slammed open and Negan strode out, pulling a tied-up Arat by the hair, Daryl stared. 

The bastard looked fuckin' pissed, and Arat's face looked like she'd run into Negan's fist a couple of times. Behind the two of them came Carl, face pale and eyes glassy, and Daryl was up against the fence with his heart pounding as Carl's wide eyes found Daryl. 

Then Merle ducked out the door, and Daryl's girl was in his arms, and Merle's eyes were dull and dead. 

Daryl stopped breathing all together for a moment when Merle met his eyes over his girl's limp form, fresh blood all over her dangling arm and bruising spreading over her face and jaw. Merle walked by Daryl, his face expressionless, and laid his girl in the bed of the black pickup parked diagonally in the yard, near the door. Negan had shoved Arat into the bed already, and she'd curled up against the back of the truck like a beaten dog. Negan gestured Carl in, and Carl reached for his girl's limp hand as Negan jumped up and Merle closed the tailgate behind him, eyes fixed on Daryl's girl. 

The bastard laughed as he slapped the side of the truck twice, and it rumbled to the gate and slowed to a stop beside Daryl. 

"You seem worried, so I'm taking the kid home," the asshole said to him with a grin. 

"If you do anything to him- or her-" he started, furious, and Negan cut him off. 

"Dwight! Daryl needs a time out. Put him back in his box for awhile." 

The bastard flipped him off while Carl stared after him and the truck rolled away with his girl, and Daryl didn't know if she was alive or dead as he was shoved back into the hole. 

 

 

At least the damn song wasn't blasting, but he wasn't sure if the silence was better or worse. He was left alone with just the image of his girl in Merle's arms, and his brother's deadened eyes and Carl's huge glassy ones. 

Was she alive? Was Carl? 

He didn't know. 

He kept thinking about the last time his brother had been helping his girl in the bed of a truck, steadying her with Rick as she climbed down, pale and shaking and bleeding and bruised. After the Governor. Daryl still remembered the desperate panicking fear that had made his mind move like sludge as he scooped her up and ran with her into the prison, calling for Hershel. She'd been the one all in pain and torn up, and she'd been calmer than he was. 

He had to stop thinking about that. Had to stop thinking about the way her hand had dangled, limp, in his brother's arms. 

Was she alive? She had to be alive.

The lock clicked on his door, and he waited for it to open, for whatever was going to come next. Nothing happened. 

Then the note was slid under his door.


	34. Don't Need Nobody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Go now. 

It wasn't Merle's almost illegible scrawl, but something almost elegant. Probably a woman's, but maybe that was just him being sexist. 

Shit, this was probably a trap. 

He didn't fuckin' care. His girl might be dead, and he had to get out of this shithole. If he got out, maybe his brother could get out too. 

Daryl knew that was stupid reasoning, and probably completely wrong. If he escaped, his brother would probably get blamed for it. He'd get a beating or the iron or worse, wind up on one of those spikes on the fence, trying to eat the flesh of the next poor bastard in Daryl's shoes. 

But he had to go. It was his girl, man. And as long as he was here, Rick wouldn't dare make a move. Even if Negan killed Daryl's girl. 

 

There was a key on the back of the note, and the door opened. So he guessed it was going well so far. 

Then there were voices in the hallway ahead of him, and a jar shattering, and he ducked into the first room he could, heart pounding. Good job for his lucky ass it was empty, and he'd moved fast enough, apparently. He took a look around, since he was obviously gonna be here awhile, and scored a full jar of peanut butter.  
That sounded a hell of a lot better'n dog food sandwiches, so he started scooping the shit out with his fingers. He was hungry, damn it. 

There were clothes everywhere in the room- his girl woulda killed him if he'd left their room like this. She wasn't no neat freak, but she could bitch his and Merle's ears off about keeping the place not looking like a damn pig sty. Something about flesh-eating bacteria growing in his gross, gut-crusted pants or some shit. 

He didn't believe a word of that, but he did put his damn clothes in the laundry pile. He wasn't sure who did the washing of them, cause it sure as fuck wasn't his girl, but he had clean shit on the regular at home. 

He yanked off the damn sweats- he didn't mind his own sweat and dirt and blood, but somebody else's was disgusting- and could hear his girl's voice laughing in his head when he found a plaid shirt and yanked it on. 

You gonna rip the arms out of this one immediately, or wait a few days first, Dixon? 

His heart clenched as he saw her, limp in his brother's arms, and Merle's dead eyes. Carl's glassy ones. Fuck. 

He was shoveling peanut butter into his mouth again-he'd found a spoon at least- when he saw the carvings. 

Dwight's room. Perfect. 

 

There was a matchbook in the outer door's latch, keeping it from locking. 

He didn't have a whole lot of time to think about that too hard, though, because he'd made it outside and he had places to fuckin' be. If this was a trap, they'd kill him this time for sure. That was fine with Daryl, 'cause at least then he'd be out of play as a pawn and Rick could open up a can of Grimes-sized whoop-ass in revenge.

He scooped up a crowbar on the way to the bikes, though, because fuck him if he wasn't gonna go down swinging. 

Good thing he did, too, because that fat bastard spotted him and dropped a damn sandwich on the ground as he raised his arms and started begging. Daryl wasn't in the mood of any of that shit. He had ears, man, and this bastard had run his mouth about Daryl's girl and some of the others back home. Plus, he was one of the fuckin' Saviors, and they had to die. 

"Buddy, you can walk right out that back gate there, and I won't say anything. I'm supposed to be there now, but I'm- I'm just trying to get by. Just like you."   
Daryl didn't say anything, just started swinging with the crowbar. 

"Daryl." 

He had blood all over him from bashing the guy's head in, and images of Abraham and Glenn rolling through his mind and making his stomach churn, but he looked up sharply. He knew that voice. 

Fuckin' Ninja Jesus was standing there, looking at him with a mix of worry, triumph, and pity. Daryl looked at him, then bent down and scooped up the dead fuck's gun. 

"Ain't just about gettin' by here. It's about getting it all. Where's my brother?" he asked as Jesus bent and grabbed the guy's radio. 

"There's good news and bad news," Jesus said slowly, and Daryl scowled. 

"Look, man, I ain't got all day. You know where he is or not? I got a girl to get back to." 

Jesus held up his hands. "We don't have long. You have to get out of here before someone sees you. I know where Merle is, but he's not going to be easy to get out, and you'll be an extra liability. Get out on the road, into the trees, and wait for me. I'll bring your brother out." 

Daryl hesitated, torn. Fuckin' ninja man was right; Daryl was a liability. He knew it. Knew he was beat the hell up and angry and Negan's fuckin' pet. He needed to not be here, for his girl; for Rick. 

But it was Merle. 

He was getting damn tired of having to leave his brother in danger. 

"You best get his ass outta here, or I'll stomp yours into next week. Don't give a shit how much my girl likes you," he growled, and Ninja Jesus smiled. 

"I don't get you both out, she'll do it for you. Go! I'll meet you." 

Well, ninja man was right about something, anyway.


	35. Lonely, Oh Not Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> canon divergence  
> mentions of past child abuse  
> mentions of past rape/non con

He paced. He should have been better fuckin' hidden, but he picked a fairly sheltered spot where he could watch the road and not be seen, and he paced. 

 

"You'll wear a whole in the floor if you keep that up," Rick sounded amused, and Daryl shot him a quick glare. "I'm just saying," his friend shrugged, holding his hands up placatingly. 

"Ain't you got somethin' to do, man?" Daryl muttered. "Some job the girls give ya?" 

"Nope," Rick said cheerfully, shoving off from the wall and coming over to Daryl's side. It was still dark outside, and Daryl ran a hand roughly through his hair and chewed on his thumbnail. 

"Nervous, baby brother?" Merle's voice boomed from the doorway as Rick slapped Daryl's back with a grin. "You gettin' cold feet?" 

"My feet are fuckin' fine. Don't see what the big deal bout it all is anyway. Why we gotta get our asses up before the buttcrack of dawn and do all this shit." 

"All this shit? Man, you took a shower. You look exactly the same, just cleaner," Rick said with a grin. "When you see her? It'll all be worth it. Trust me." 

"I see her every damn day. Just supposed to be some little thing, me'n'her and maybe you two. Make it all official and go about our business. Dog and pony show ain't my style, man." 

"Then why'd you agree to all this? Cause I know for a fact she protested hard, and them girls overruled her by askin' you." His brother's shit eating grin made Daryl pause and scowl for a minute, knowing he was right. 

"Carol had that look. Thought if I didn't agree I'd lose something important," he said finally, and it was the truth, but not the whole truth. Merle and Rick were both laughing at him, but he noticed neither of them said he'd been wrong. Carol was fucking scary sometimes. 

He was a little nervous of being in front of everyone, but really? He just wanted to be married to her already. He'd missed seeing her face when Rick came and drug his ass out of bed and stuffed him into the shower, and man- 

Fuck, maybe he was nervous after all. 

He chewed on his fingernail some more and started pacing again. 

 

Where the fuck were they? 

He knew it hadn't been that long, really, and he knew it. But since when was Daryl Dixon known as a patient man? He'd stopped pacing, afraid of running out of peanut butter-given energy in case they had to do something drastic. Like run or fight or some shit. 

Where the fuck were they? 

Didn't that Jesus asshole know he was in a hurry? That stopped Daryl's thoughts in their tracks as something else hit him. How did Jesus get there? For that matter, how did his girl get there? And what had been happening back home while he was splitting his time between near death experiences and being driven crazy by that damn song? 

If he never heard another word about streets, champagne, or gravy trains, Daryl'd die fucking happy. 

Hell, trains were never good for him anyway.

Trains had been an issue even before the damn cannibals at Terminus. Frankly, Daryl should have fucking known. But the incident with the train had been a long time ago, and what with the world ending in between and all, he supposed he could be forgiven for not putting those two together. 

He'd been a kid. Like seriously a kid, like before Merle left, so maybe eight or nine. He didn't think he'd hit double digits yet. Merle'd been driving already, but Merle'd been driving- illegally- since he was twelve, so that didn't narrow it down none for Daryl. It'd been one of those rare perfect summer days, where it weren't too hot or humid or anything, just perfect. At least that's how it woulda seemed to a kid, anyway. 

Daryl could look back now and see the warning signs. His brother'd hustled him out of the house before noon, mutterin' about their daddy needing some time alone. That was Dixon code for 'drunk off his ass still from the night before', and Daryl knew it, but he hadn't realized how bad it was. Merle'd had a bag with him, just an old beat up backpack he used at school, and Daryl had scoffed, thinking Merle was bringing some school assignment or some such shit. 

Merle'd taken their daddy's truck and parked it at the bar, and he and Daryl'd walked from there. Daryl didn't think anything of it at the time, but now he knew Merle was hoping their old man would think he'd left it there when he'd come home early that morning. Merle walked Daryl down to the train tracks that ran just outside of town, saying they were going to go on a grand adventure. 

Daryl's class had read some book about a group of kids living in a train car in the woods and solving mysteries or some shit, so Daryl was excited. Merle told him how to hop the train when it came by and had beamed and high fived him when he did it and they were both on. Daryl knew now that Merle'd planned on running away and never going back. He knew now that Merle'd gotten what would end up as a long scar a lot like one of Daryl's in the early hours of the morning, and that he hadn't had taken care of it any yet, just slapped a couple of bandages he'd stolen on his last class field trip to the firehouse over it. 

At the time, Daryl just knew that as the train picked up speed, his brother had been grinning at him one minute, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he went tumbling down out of the open door and didn't get up when Daryl screamed. Daryl jumped out a second later and run over to his brother, and Merle had been passed flat out. He'd known basic first aid shit even then- Merle'd needed his help to reach things before and taught him what to do when Merle couldn't handle it himself- and he found the long, ugly gash. Daryl'd also found a basic first aid pack in Merle's backpack, where his brother'd been planning on stitching himself up later or having Daryl do it instead. Daryl did it right there on the side of the trail track in the dirt, because what else was he going to do?

Daryl still wasn't sure how long it had really been that he'd been there with his brother before some other backwoods redneck asshole found them, but Merle'd gone to the hospital and Daryl and Merle had landed in separate foster care for two horrifying weeks before ending up right back in their run down, smoke filled trailer, with their daddy even angrier than before. 

So yeah, trains weren't really Daryl's thing anyway. 

Where the fuck was Ninja Jesus? Why the fuck was he calling him Ninja Jesus instead of just Jesus? Damn it all, his girl was so deep in his head he sometimes wasn't sure what were his thoughts and what were hers. 

She better be alright. 

 

When they came, Daryl didn't even see them coming. He was watching one minute, and there was nothing. The next minute, a twig snapped beside him and he spun with the fat bastard's gun up and his heart in his throat, and there was Merle with his shit-eating grin and Jesus with the bandanna over the lower half of his face. 

"Hey, little brother! You met Jesus? I like the shit outta him," Merle said by way of greeting. 

Daryl didn't say nothing to that, but he wondered what it was about Ninja Jesus that Dixons seemed to just take to him immediately. Except him, of course. 

But the guy had gotten him and his brother out, and had backed his girl up. So maybe wasn't that bad after all. 

 

Daryl'd protested going to the fucking Hilltop. He didn't want to go to Hilltop. There wasn't anyone he needed at Hilltop. His girl and Carl, they needed his help, and   
according to Merle they were heading to Alexandria. 

Merle argued against going to Hilltop too, and Daryl read the worry in his face as he scowled at Jesus. But Jesus raised the valid point that the first place Negan would look when they went missing would be Alexandria, and Daryl and Merle's presence there would just put the place at greater risk. And if Negan was still there when they got home, they'd just get taken again and get his girl hurt even worse. 

"She took a bruising from that bitch Arat. Got a damn chip on her shoulder, that one. Wants Negan somethin' bad, but he don't want her like that. Turned her down with a laugh, and insteada gettin' all pissy with him, she got all bitchy with his wives instead," Merle'd told him, and Daryl had told Merle truthfully that he didn't give a shit about Arat. He gave a shit about his girl. 

Merle'd testily fired back that as far as he knew, the doctor thought his girl just had a concussion. She'd taken a couple good licks to the head and blacked out. Then there was the slice on the arm, but that had stitched up clean and shouldn't be a problem. That was all Merle knew, since- Daryl should notice- Merle was fuckin' here and not in Alexandria with her, wasn't he? 

He had a point there, Daryl'd been forced to admit, just as he'd been forced to admit that so did Jesus. And when Daryl admitted that, Merle'd had no choice but to go along. 

They couldn't all three ride the damn bike, but Ninja Jesus had that handled as well. So Daryl had ridden the bike and Jesus and Merle had taken the rusted out hulk of a truck that shouldn't have run at all, but that Jesus had somehow managed to get moving. 

Daryl suspected it might have been with magic. 

Either way, they made it there, and Daryl's heart stopped beating when he pulled through the massive gates and out of the big house came someone he'd never fucking expected to see. He'd been told Maggie Greene Rhee was dead. He'd seen her grave. He'd been right there, and he'd been told- 

By Negan. By his girl and Rick, who weren't telling him- they were telling Negan. Shit, he was a fool. He was an idiot and worse, and yet he still couldn't- he still couldn't look Maggie in the eyes. He accepted the tearful hug from her, from Sasha, from Carl's little girlfriend Enid- hell, he didn't even know her, not really; but they were all crying and hugging him and Merle and Jesus, and he accepted it as the sun slipped over the horizon. 

But he couldn't look Maggie in the eye. He'd gotten Glenn killed, after all.


	36. Heard Each Song

Merle hadn't seen Maggie in a long damn time; hadn't even know about the baby. He didn't know a lot of things- like about the walkers in the town or how they'd met Ninja Jesus or how Daryl'd lied to and run out on his girl. Daryl wanted to keep his brother in the dark on that last one, because he knew Merle'd kick his ass over it. 

Merle, Daryl, Jesus, and the women had been sitting in Jesus' overstuffed trailer, eating and talking and exchanging stories. It was the first that either Daryl or Merle had been able to catch up with other people's sides of things, much less each other, and the group of them talked and laughed and cried more than once, until it was either extremely late or very early. 

In the end, Enid had passed out first, pretty early on. News about Carl had settled her down and she'd retreated to the background once Merle shared what he knew. Merle'd finally told his side of the story, just the basics really- walkers, walkers, and more walkers; then waking up in the Sanctuary and getting a job offer from the big man. Merle hadn't minded him at first; thought it seemed as good a place as any. But Merle was trying to get back to his brother and his family, so he paid attention, and he started to notice things right off the bat. 

Merle'd winced when he said that and turned apologetic eyes on Maggie and Sasha. His story had come to a halt as he apologized to each of them in turn, eyes on the table. "Weren't nothin' I could do. I'd already tried. When word reach him of what y'all'd done to the outpost- he was on the damn warpath. I tried; I did. I loved Glenn like a brother, Maggie. And I failed both of you. And Abraham- I didn't know 'im as well, but he was a good man. I ain't never gonna make it up to either of ya. Had to be somethin' else I coulda done, but I was scared to make it worse. I'd told him as little as I could get away with, and he knew it. He took a shine to me, but he kept me real close under his thumb, too." 

Maggie had covered Merle's big hand with her own and told him he didn't have a thing to apologize for. Daryl knew she was right. It wasn't Merle's fault Glenn was killed. 

It was Daryl's. 

He couldn't bring himself to ask her about the baby, and for the longest time it didn't just come up either. Then Sasha said something off hand about apple pie, and Maggie had laughed and said apparently this one wanted apples, and Daryl'd looked up from where he'd been spending most of his time staring at the table top. 

"So- are ya-the baby?" he asked, meeting Maggie's eye for a short moment while she smiled at him.

"Baby's fine. Doctor Carson here's taking good care of us," she answered him. He nodded and went back to looking at the table as Merle looked at Maggie in confusion. 

"Are you tellin' me you're-?" he asked, and Maggie's face lit up. 

"You didn't know! I only started tellin' people when you and Glenn were missing, the first time we thought you were dead. I'm havin' a baby. Glenn's baby." 

Merle'd scooped her up in a one armed hug and scrubbed his hand over his eyes when he set her back on her feet. Daryl wanted to smile at his brother's obvious happiness, but he couldn't. Here with Maggie, the guilt was pulling him under again. All he could see was a widow whose husband he'd gotten killed, right in front of her. A pregnant lady whose baby would grow up without a daddy because Daryl hadn't been able to control himself and everyone around him paid the price. 

 

By the time Daryl slid out of the trailer into the night, Maggie had been bullied into going to bed by the others. Sasha had passed out later, after a long conversation with the three men about the way to and inside of the Savior's factory compound. Daryl suspected she was planning some shit- she wasn't all that subtle; hell, even Merle probably knew she was up to something- but it wasn't his business to tell the others what they could and could not do. Especially since what he chose to do got people killed. 

Jesus followed him into the darkness a few minutes later. Daryl was holding a cigarette between his fingers and looking at it. Merle's brought a whole damn pack out of the Sanctuary with him, and Daryl had promptly stolen it. It wasn't like he'd been given any while he was in that damn cell, and he wanted to light it up pretty fuckin' bad. But he wasn't for some reason. Just couldn't bring himself to go look for some matches or a lighter somewhere. 

So he was staring at it when the door opened behind him and the long haired freak stepped through. 

"She's tough," he spoke quietly. "She's ok. I guarantee it." 

"Ya cain't. Ain't no guarantees in this world," Daryl said to his cigarette. 

Jesus sat down beside him. Outside of the coat and shit, he didn't look like a fuckin' ninja anymore. But he did look exhausted, Daryl noticed, and he felt a little stab of guilt over his reaction to the guy when Jesus rubbed a hand over his eyes. He'd done nothing but come through for Daryl and his people.

"No, I guess not. Still. She might be the toughest person I know, and, well- I know a lot of people," Jesus said with a slight smile. 

Daryl snorted. "She's tough as shit. Don't mean nothin' can touch her. Just as human and you'n me. She can die just as easy, too." 

Jesus nodded. "She can. But she won't. I'll go in the morning, head over to Alexandria. Sneak in and check on the state of things. If the coast is clear, I'll bring her over with me. Maybe Rick too if we can swing it." 

Daryl grunted and both of them were silent for awhile. "I owe ya," Daryl whispered finally. "For gettin' my brother out. For helping my girl. For tryin' to get Carl back where he belonged. For taking care of Maggie and Sasha. I owe ya." 

"No, you don't," Jesus answered easily. "I'd have done it for anyone. But she's special, too. Don't worry; I'm not in love with her." 

Daryl snorted. "Don't care if ya are. She's mine and I know it." 

Jesus laughed. "Good attitude. She is yours. Plus, I'm not exactly into girls." 

"No shit?" Daryl said, surprised. Jesus looked at him from the corner of his eye and shrugged, but Daryl read the wariness in the other man's shoulders. 

"Huh. Cool," Daryl grunted. Not like he gave a damn one way or another. Ninja was probably worried Daryl would pull some homophobic backwoods shit, but hell- Daryl's first friends in Alexandria had been Aaron and Eric. Bein' an asshole like that was more Merle's move than his. Not that he thought Merle would have anything to say about it either; Merle'd mellowed a whole fucking lot since the world ended.

"Yeah. Anyway, she's special. People like her? They're the ones who are going to make everything work again. And they don't even realize how important they are. But," Jesus said, tone shifting as he looked at Daryl. "You should get some sleep. Sasha and Maggie are splitting the bed and Enid's on the couch, so I'm afraid you and Merle are down to the floor. Merle's already asleep." 

Daryl snorted. Hell, his brother was probably passed out and snoring like a chainsaw. That many people under one roof was enough to make him itch even without his time in the cell makin' closed up spaces give him breathing trouble. He didn't wanna be trapped. Didn't want to be in the dark or on a hard floor or feel the press of anything making things seem so small. 

"Naw," he said casually as his heart began to race. "I'mma stay outside. Nice out. I'll sleep in the truck if I need to. Another thing to thank ya for. Givin' up your home for 'em." He jerked his head in the direction of the trailer. 

"Don't want to be enclosed, huh? Don't blame you. Saw the cell, on my way to find Merle. Shithole." 

Daryl didn't say anything, and eventually Jesus rose and turned to go back in. "And there's no need to thank me, Daryl; I already told you." 

"Ninja," Daryl said without turning. "I'm thinkin' you might be one of them people the world needs to make everything work again too. And I think I might like ya as much as my brother and my girl do after all." 

Jesus laughed softly. "Thanks for the compliment. Goodnight, Daryl." 

Daryl grunted. 

 

Morning found him awake and exhausted, not having slept much. Hadn't been able to. He was wandering around Hilltop, avoid the graves at all cost, when Jesus and Merle found him. 

"There ya are, little brother. Been lookin' for ya." Merle squinted at him. "You sleep at all?" 

Daryl shrugged and Merle sighed. "You gotta take care of yourself, asshole. She's gonna need ya in fightin' shape. Speakin' of which, Jesus here was just telling me about the damn fine doctor they've got up here. How about we get you over there and get ya checked out?" 

"Thought you were goin' to Alexandria," Daryl glared at Ninja Jesus, who held up his hands in a gesture of peace. 

"I am. I'm leaving shortly. Just wanted to make sure you and Merle had what you needed first-" 

"Sasha! Enid!" 

Maggie's voice carried in the stillness, and Daryl and Merle exchanged looks. She didn't sound afraid, she sounded- happy? Excited? The three of the headed toward the front of the compound as they heard the gates swing open, and as they came around the corner- 

Her name exploded from him before he knew what he was saying, and she whirled around to look at him, eyes wide in her bruised up face. 

But she was there. She was standing there in front of him- not a crumpled, limp form in his brother's arms, but his strong and fierce warrior in one of his own ripped-up shirts. Seeing his tattered sleeves on her arms made his heart hurt with the guilt of how he'd left her, and he hesitated for a moment as he wondered if she'd even want him back, again. But he saw her lips move as she whispered his name, and he was in front of her without remembering moving at all. 

He held out a hand, feathering his fingers over the bruise on her jaw as she looked at him with glassy, tear-filled eyes before his arms locked around her and he crushed her to him. 

She was alive. She was hurt, but she was alive. Alive and here and in his arms, where she damn well belonged.


	37. In the Darkened Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> PTSD nightmares  
> references to past abuse  
> references to past child abuse  
> references to past rape/non con

Daryl'd gone most of his life without nightmares. He'd seen some rough shit as a kid, but sleep was always an escape. Then his girl had gotten taken by the Governor, and when they got her out, the nightmares started. 

It wasn't very often, not after the first week or so, but it was always the same: smoke and bullets ringing and his heart pounding with desperation, and he'd look down when his feet wouldn't move, to see what the hell the problem was, and realize he was a teenager. But he needed to run, because she was there and she was with- someone. 

Sometimes it was the Governor she was being held by, but more often than not, she was with his daddy, and Daryl had to get to her. And he would, eventually, but it would always be too late, and he'd see her eyes- her dead-but-living eyes, the flash of them he'd gotten when Rick pulled the bag off her head. 

It devolved from there, sometimes into shit they'd been through, sometimes into just a field of the rotting bastards, trying to eat him or her or both of them or Merle. Sometimes he'd just wake up, heart pounding, and need to check on her and tell himself she was fine. 

But it was always about her. 

Until now. 

Daryl was having nightmares like he'd never had before. They'd started almost immediately when he'd laid down in the bed on the truck at Hilltop, and he'd hoped it was just that it was his first night out of the damn cell. Of course, this was only his second night out of the cell, but he could already see a fuckin' pattern emerging, and he sure as hell didn't like it. Here he was curled around his girl, face pressed to her neck and breathing her in, and he was still trembling a little. 

He'd been back in the cell, naked in the dark and closed in by the walls and that damn song was blasting, but he hadn't been alone. There's been other there, a series of them, the people Daryl'd taken shit from in his life parading through to take hits at him, and he was the only thing standing between his girl, his brother, Carl, Rick, Maggie, his whole damn family and them, the ones who came to hurt them- his daddy; the asshole in high school who'd spent six weeks punching Daryl in the side repeatedly when the teacher couldn't see until he'd done so on a rib Daryl's daddy'd already fractured and Daryl screamed as it broke, nearly passing out; the head of Merle's motorcycle gang who'd beat the shit outta Daryl then bought him a drink after with a laugh as he stood there bleeding; the Governor and his missing eye; Joe the Claimer; Gareth with a fuckin' fork and licking his lips as he tried to scoop up a bite of Daryl's innards; Dwight with an iron in his hand coming for Daryl's face; fuckin' Negan. They'd come in one by one, taken some shots, and faded into each other. Every time Daryl beat one or failed to beat one, whichever, they'd turn into someone else. 

Finally it was Negan, as Daryl exploded into action and snatched the iron from Dwight's hand, shoving it into the other side of Dwight's face even as Daryl's hand sizzled. Dwight disappeared, the iron disappeared, and Negan was laughing behind him. Daryl turned around, and there was the asshole, holding onto his girl, and her eyes were dead and her face was pale and- 

Daryl'd woken up pressed into the the wall with a scream on his lips, and his girl whispering his name. 

 

 

She didn't want to leave them, and he didn't want her to, either. She was holding onto him like she'd never let him go again as they stood at the gate, and Daryl was trying to hold down the rage he felt at this asshole who called himself a king. Bastard wouldn't help them, because the Saviors didn't come into his place and threaten his people. He hadn't seen shit the way they had. 

The way Daryl's girl had. 

But he knew he and Merle would only put her in even more danger if they went home, so he reassured her as best he could, and glared at Rick. 

"Take care of my girl." 

His friend nodded, jaw tight, and Daryl knew he would. Rick would do everything he could to keep her safe, until she wouldn't let him anymore and ran headlong into some kind of danger. He didn't need Rick to tell him that, and he knew Rick knew he'd understand when she dashed into some shit that got her hurt. But Rick nodded at him and answered anyway. 

"As much as she'll let me, brother. I know you hate this, but- try to talk to Ezekiel. Or just stare him into submission. Whatever it takes."

Daryl snorted at that while Merle laughed and his girl cracked a watery grin. He kissed her again, a hard promise that it wasn't the last time he'd do that, and watched as they left. His girl turned back once and he gave her a smile as his brother came up to stand at his side and the gates swung closed. 

And she was gone. Again.


	38. Going Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

He watched as they came back in their trucks, as he'd watched when they left. Merle was busy, walkin' around checking everything out and flirting with whoever came across his path, trying to use his dubious 'charm' to get the people on their side so the king would have to come down on their side. That sounded like a whole lot of bullshit to Daryl, and certainly not the way any kingship he'd ever heard about worked, but if it made his brother happy, Daryl wouldn't stand in the way. He was worried about his brother, what with things he'd had to do for Negan and now with the added shit going on with Carol. He knew Merle'd been carrying a torch for his friend for a long damn time, and that things had been finally looking like they were going his brother's way. 

And then. 

They all got out of the trucks, but the air was subdued and angry, and Daryl watched as the king talked to the kid sternly and then to Richard. Something had happened, Daryl knew. He was pretty sure they'd gone to meet the Saviors. 

When it was just Morgan and the kid, he spoke. "Hey. Where'd you go in them trucks?" 

The Monk- Jesus, his girl and her nicknames that fuckin' stuck- sent the kid off as Daryl came closer. "You went to see them, right?" he asked. 

"Yeah." 

"Part of your deal? The hell's wrong with you? You're bleeding. They did that to you. You know what they are," he snarled as Morgan just stared at him. 

"I do." 

"You know, if Carol were here, she saw all that? She knew about Abraham... and Glenn? She'd be leading us right to them, ready to kill 'em all." He didn't know where it had come from, but the words just spilled out of him. Carol was special, to him and his brother and his girl, he missed her. He missed her so bad and he couldn't believe she'd just- leave. 

"She would," the Monk agreed. "And that's why she left, man." 

Daryl scoffed and walked away. He needed to find his damn brother and go find Carol. Fuck this Ezekiel asshole; they needed someone who cared enough to help. 

 

 

He found his brother right enough, but he left him where he was. Merle was sitting at a table with a plate of food in front of him and a smile on his face as he talked to the man with a metal hand they'd seen earlier teaching kids how to shoot the Kingdom's longbows. 

Merle looked happy, and Daryl wasn't gonna mess with that. 

So he wandered off on his own, heading for the Kingdom's shooting range. He was thinking about his girl and her crudely made targets, how they'd been little more than pillows with painted-on smiley faces nailed to boards. She'd named them, because his girl was a little fucked up like that. He couldn't remember their names, and half the time neither could she, making up stranger and stranger ones on the spot. 

This place had real targets- hay-bale-backed with their concentric circles- and Daryl found Richard there, doing a fairly crap job with a longbow. There was a crossbow and a compound bow laying on the table beside him along with a shit ton of arrows, and Daryl wondered what store they'd found with all this shit stashed away still. 

"I'm practicing," Richard said as Daryl walked up. "Gonna have to start using these more. Truth is, they're smart enough to know I shouldn't have a gun around them." He shot and missed widely, and sighed before turning to Daryl. "Morgan said you're a bowman." 

Daryl grunted, and Richard handed him the crossbow. "Why?" Daryl asked as he took it.

"I need your help." 

 

 

It wasn't his bow, but damn did it feel good in his hands. 

"We need something to move Ezekiel. This is it. Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the Kingdom hitting first, hitting hard, and then we wipe the Saviors from the earth. Keeping people, dozens and dozens and dozens of good people- keeping them safe." 

The man had a secret stash, and Daryl might have been happier about the guns than he'd been about the damn crossbow. He was also happy he'd left his brother behind, because Merle needed a little peace. Daryl knew he'd gone through some shit with Negan, even before Negan'd found them. Merle wouldn't talk about it to Daryl's girl, and Daryl was glad- the little he'd opened up to Daryl about had been the sort of shit that would have had his girl running solo after Negan. Daryl just hoped Merle'd find someone to talk to about it or some way to be ok. 

He'd hate to lose his brother again to the asshole who'd come back from war wearing Merle's face.

 

 

He and Richard had hiked out a long damn way along a road, to a spot with a wrecked out semi and a van providing some decent cover. Richard kept lookin' at Daryl as they walked, and Daryl was starting to get a bad feeling about whatever this guy's plan was. He was starting to think maybe he should've asked some questions before goin' off like this. 

His girl's voice sounded in his head, telling him this shit obviously wasn't gonna be good. 

"They ride this road," Richard told him. "If we see cars, it's the Saviors. They've been coming in packs or two or three lately. That's why I need you. I can't take them alone. We're gonna hit them with the guns first and then the Molotovs." 

Daryl grunted, swinging the pack off his back and leaning the gun against the side of the semi like Richard. 

"Then back to the guns until they're dead." 

That seemed straight forward enough, but- "Why the fire?" he asked. 

"Needs to look bad. The Saviors who discover what's left- we want them to be angry. I left a trail from here to the weapons cache I planted, to the cabin of that someone Ezekiel cares about." 

Daryl felt a chill. Setting someone up? Not his style. Not if he didn't know 'em from Adam. "Who's that?" he asked coldly. 

"Just some loner he met. Sometimes he brings food." 

"Why don't they live in the Kingdom?" he asked. This was fuckin' suspicious, man. 

"I don't know. She lives out there, she'll die out there." 

She. Bastard wants to set up some woman livin' alone? "It's a woman?" 

"What's it matter? She's got more balls than you and me. She's gonna die either way. When the Saviors come and find their buddies dead, if they know their elbow from their asshole and can follow an obvious spoor, they're going to go to the weapons cache and then to the cabin, and they're gonna attack this woman."

Some woman. Livin' alone. More balls than this fucker. 

Carol. 

"What's her name?" 

 

 

He told him no. He told the asshole no, grabbed the pack he'd hauled out for the man who wanted to set his friend up to die, and told him to stay the hell away from Carol. 

The bastard wasn't listening, and when the cars approached, Daryl knew what he had to do. The asshole kept trying to persuade him, and then he tried to go for it himself. Daryl wasn't having any of that shit, and Daryl'd been having some damn bad days here lately. 

It ended up a draw, his crossbow on the asshole and the asshole's gun on him. And the bastard was still fuckin' talking about sacrificing Carol. 

"Guys like us? We've already lost so much," Richard said, spitting blood from the nose Daryl thought he might have broken, and Daryl scoffed. 

"You don't know me." 

"I know that Carol, living on her own like that- she might as well be dead right now." 

This asshole needed to shut up, and Daryl was gonna make him one way or another. He dropped his crossbow, too damn angry to be drawn on a guy if he wasn't gonna shoot. 

"She gets hurt, she dies, if she catches a fever, if she's taken out by a walker, if she gets hit by lightning- anything, anything happens to her, I'll kill you. And if I cain't, my brother will." 

"I would die for the Kingdom," the asshole said, lowering his gun. 

"Why don't you?" Daryl sneered, and left him there. He took his bag and the gun Richard had given him with him.


	39. To Be Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

He didn't go straight back. He wandered awhile, until he picked up the trail Richard had left and started muddying it even as he followed it. 

He saw her open the door and stand hands on her hips, looking at the king and his people. He wasn't close enough to hear them- he didn't wanna have to talk to the king, not in the mood he was in- but he could see. He could see the way they looked at each other, her and the king, and his heart broke a little for his brother. There was obviously something there, the same something that his girl had thought he didn't see between Carol and Merle. Maybe Merle still had a shot, but- Daryl didn't know. He didn't know, but he missed his friend. 

When she turned back inside and shut the door firmly, they left. As soon as he was sure they were gone, Daryl moved from his spot and headed up her porch. He stood there for a minute, then knocked quietly on the door. 

She looked annoyed as she opened it, but as soon as she saw him, her face changed. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding on tight, and Daryl held back for a minute, until it was too much. 

"Ok," he said roughly, pushing her away from him a bit. She was crying a little and he thought he might be too. He looked at her sadly. "Jesus took us to the Kingdom. The Monk said you just left." 

Carol's face twisted a little when he called Morgan the Monk, and Daryl's heart did too. Carol was as much his girl's friend as his, and he knew she'd been missing Carol for a long time; longer even than Daryl had. She'd felt Carol leave before Daryl ever noticed it.

"Why'd you go?" he asked finally, and his voice broke a little. He wasn't just asking why she left the Kingdom, he was asking why she'd left them all. Why she'd distanced herself when Merle was gone, why she'd moved in with Tobin without saying anything to them, why she'd left Alexandria without saying goodbye- all of it. 

From the way her face crumpled, she knew what he was asking. "I had to," she whispered. 

"He ain't dead," he whispered back, and her face went blank with shock. 

 

 

In the end, he lied to her. It seemed to be a pattern of his these days, lying to the women he cared about. He hated it, but he'd hated the look on her face more. 

"I couldn't lose anyone. I couldn't lose any of them. I couldn't lose you, or her. Not after I'd lost him." 

She'd looked small and sad, sitting there by the fire she was cooking over; so different from the confident woman who'd bossed him and Merle and his girl around their house in Alexandria. Different from the woman who hid how deadly she was behind an innocent smile and nervous gestures. 

"I couldn't kill them. Well. I could. I would. If they hurt any of our people- any more of them- that's what I would do. And there wouldn't be anything left of me after that. She was right. I knew she was worried about me, all of you Dixons were. Hiding behind my housewife smile and baking casseroles out of nothing- it was just to cover the nothing inside me. She was right. The Saviors- did they come?" She asked the question to the fire, and he'd known he would lie to her right then. 

"Yeah." 

"Did anyone get hurt?" she asked finally, turning to face him, and she had tears running down her cheeks already. 

"Naw. Everyone's fine. Merle was with 'em. We got 'em all. Made a deal with the rest of them, like Ezekiel. They want Merle back though, so we're hidin' him here. Everyone's alright." 

He lied, and he knew she knew it, but she nodded and wiped her eyes and they ate and joked a little. They ignored the lie and pretended it was old times, and Daryl's heart hurt for her, for him, for his girl, for his brother. 

And when he went to leave, knowing Merle would be climbing out of his skull looking for Daryl soon if he wasn't already, Daryl hugged her tight again and walked into the darkness, leaving her behind. 

He didn't know what he was gonna tell Merle. 

 

 

"Where the hell you been, little brother?" Merle yelled dramatically when Daryl wandered into the room they were sharing. 

"Out," he snapped, annoyance and sadness making him angry. 

"Out? You're supposed to be keepin' ya damn head down, asshole," Merle snapped back, glaring at him from his bed. Daryl grunted, dropping the rifle and the crossbow down on his own bed so he could shrug out of the backpack. 

"And where'd ya get the new toys?" his brother added, tone turning considering as he eyed Daryl's stuff. 

"Richard," he answered shortly, not sure how much of the story he wanted to get into. "Asked for my help with some bullshit plan to take out some Saviors and get that king asshole into the fight. Had to keep 'im from it, 'cause he ain't thought through shit." 

"Yeah?" Merle's tone said he knew Daryl was either lying or not telling the whole truth, and Daryl's scowl grew and he toed off his boots and and shifted his shit from the bed to the floor. 

The crossbow he leaned against bed right beside his head, and Daryl leaned over and blew out the big ass lantern Merle was using, plunging the room into darkness. He flopped down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, knowing Merle was still probably giving him that concerned look. 

Daryl dangled his arm over the side of the bed, fingertips brushing against the stock of the crossbow. It comforted him slightly, and that made him a little worried about himself at the same time. 

"I know there's some shit ya ain't tellin' me, baby brother." Merle's tone wasn't accusing, wasn't a question- just a statement of fact, and Daryl sighed. 

"I found her," he whispered into the darkness, and he heard the slight hitch in his brother's breathing, heard the creak of the bed as he jerked.

"Who?" his brother asked, voice falsely casual. 

"You know who, asshole," Daryl muttered with a scowl. "She ain't right. I lied to her. Been lyin' to every damn person I care about lately." 

"Why'd you lie to her then?" 

"'Cause she's messed up, man! She ain't our Carol. She's- she's all fucked up in the head from all the damn killin'. She ain't like us, like my girl. You didn't see her. If ya had- she was cryin' and askin' me if the Saviors had killed anyone. Said she'd kill them all if they had, but there'd be nothing of her left after. The fuck was I s'posed to do, man?" he exploded suddenly. 

Merle was quiet for a minute. "Exactly what ya did, baby brother. Leave her be. Let her have some peace," he said finally, and Daryl hated the sadness in his brother's voice. Hated it, but didn't know what to do, so he just muttered a yeah under his breath. 

"I'm leavin' tomorrow. Goin' to the Hilltop. Cain't stay here," he said a minute later. 

"Aight, little bro. We'll leave in the morning then," Merle answered, and that was that.


	40. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> PTSD type stuff

He slid out of their room in the middle of the night, nodding at the few people still up and wandering around. No one challenged him, and he ended up sitting beside the tiger's cage. 

She relaxed him. She was wild and fierce and free, and the cage didn't trap her; it housed her. Hell, he didn't think the door was locked. She wasn't in the cage to protect others from her, she was in the cage to protect her from others. 

She reminded him of his girl. God, he missed that woman. 

The Monk found him there, staring into Shiva's eyes and drifting along with his thoughts. 

"You're good with her. Ezekiel will be impressed," Morgan said cautiously, like he was asking if he could intrude. 

"Well, figure any guy that has a pet tiger can't be that bad. He's ok by Carol, too. Yeah, I found her, out in that little house." 

"Look, what I said, when I said she just left? That's what she told me to do," the Monk said, shifting guiltily. 

Daryl grunted. "I get it. We need the Kingdom," he added, looking Morgan in the eye. "You got to make that happen." 

The Monk shook his head. "I'm sorry. But ah- it can't be me." 

Daryl rose with a sigh. "Look, whatever it is you're holdin' on to, it's already gone, man. Wake the hell up." 

"You're the same as me, Daryl," the Monk said as Daryl started to leave. 

"Man, you don't know shit about me," he snarled back. 

"No, I do. Cause you didn't tell Carol what happened. You didn't, cause she'd be here otherwise. And I'm glad for that. See, we're all holding onto something." 

The tiger picked that moment to shove her face toward Daryl through the bars, and he snorted a little as he let her sniff and nuzzle at his fingers. His girl would be jealous, he thought, and also muttering about dramatic sons of bitches. 

Hell, she'd probably be turning those pleading eyes on him and asking if they could have a pet tiger. Like he'd know how to fuckin' find one.

"We're goin' back to Hilltop in the mornin' and getting ready," he growled over his shoulder at the Monk. 

 

 

Travelling alone with Merle from the Kingdom to the Hilltop was like a blast from the damn past, and Daryl was suddenly questioning why he'd wanted to find his brother again. It was like when they'd been on their own, before they'd found the group at the quarry; just him and his redneck brother who made him fuckin' insane but he couldn't leave behind. The asshole strode along beside Daryl, quiet as cloud in the sky- 

Or he would have been, if he'd ever shut his damn mouth. Daryl mostly tuned the chatter out, but two hours of Merle's steady bitching about everything from the heat to the distance to Daryl's decision to leave the Kingdom to the fact that he'd never get to watch another baseball game- what the fuck did that have to do with anything, Daryl wondered- to how much he missed pot and strippers was just too damn much. 

"Would ya shut your damn trap, Merle?" he exploded finally, his voice a soft hiss. "We're supposed to be hidin', asshole, and your frickin' prattle's loud enough to bring every damn Savior down on us for fifty fuckin' miles around!" 

Merle sniffed and looked affronted. "Well excuse me, little brother. Just tryin' to take your mind off whatever it is you been broodin' about since the middle of last night." 

"I ain't broodin'," Daryl muttered as he kept walking. "I don't brood." He glared into the distance and Merle snorted. 

"Keep tellin' yourself that, baby brother. What's on your mind?" 

"Nothin'!" Daryl snapped, and Merle didn't say a word. Daryl scowled at the trees and finally relented. "Just- Ain't sleepin' much." 

"No shit, little brother," Merle said. "I been sharin' a room with you, remember?"

"I remember you snore like a damn helicopter hoverin' right overhead." 

"Shut up, asshole," Merle fired back automatically and without any heat. "I know you been havin' nightmares. Think I remember you tellin' me once you didn't do that shit." 

Daryl scowled harder. "Didn't. Not till after the Governor, and then they's only about her, ya know?" 

"So, what's different?" Merle asked, his voice going softer. That made Daryl's shoulders start to itch, the way they did when anyone other than his girl got all emotional with him. 

"Nothin'," he snapped. "Just got beat the hell up, thrown in a cell, got some asshole all over my girl again, and got my friend fuckin' killed, that's all. What the fuck you think is different, man?" He stormed off ahead, not wanting to talk any more, and Merle let him go. 

 

 

Once his brother finally shut the hell up, Daryl started to relax into the quiet and the sunlight. They even started seeing some game, and when they saw the deer tracks, they decided a little detour was in order. Daryl had the crossbow that asshole Richard had given him, and the Hilltop had mouths needed feeding same as Alexandria or the Kingdom did. They'd welcome some venison as well, he figured. 

Between them, when they strolled up to Hilltop somewhere around noon, Daryl and Merle came with one deer, three rabbits, and a whole bunch of mushrooms Merle swore weren't the psychedelic kind. Daryl didn't really believe him, but when Maggie met them just inside the open gates, she was grinning and laughing and ate one of the mushrooms right out of Merle's hand, so what the hell did Daryl know? 

Daryl still couldn't look her in the eye, even when she led them over to Jesus' trailer, where she and Sasha and Enid were still staying. That dick Gregory wouldn't give them a place of their own, and when Merle had said maybe he could do something about that, Maggie'd just shrugged. 

"It actually makes sense. If the Saviors search the place, there won't be anything out of place for them to find. We don't leave anything out that'll show there's more than just Jesus there. We've got a few boltholes set up for the three of us to hide in- or at least Sasha and I, Enid's pretty much below the radar- and we have a tunnel out into the woods under the walls." 

"Where is the ninja man?" Merle asked, glancing around as Maggie held open the door and gestured them inside. 

"He and YN left before dawn," she started, and Daryl's head whipped around to her. 

"My girl was here? Where'd she go?" he growled, and Maggie looked at him. He met her eyes this time, just for a second, and there was sadness in them. He jerked his eyes away again. 

"They went to scout the Sanctuary," she answered, and the shadow of sadness in her eyes was in her voice. It was almost enough to keep Daryl from exploding. 

Almost. 

"The fuck? She went to him again?" He yelled out, already turning toward the door when Merle grabbed his arm. He shook his brother off, turning his glare on Merle. 

"Clean ya damn ears out every once in a while, would you little brother? That ain't what she said. Try listenin' before you run tits first into shit," Merle snapped. 

Daryl glared at him and Merle glared back, and the tense silence grew until Maggie broke it. 

"She and Jesus went to watch their movements and to look for lookouts. She's got a whole ton of maps and lists she's made in triplicate," Maggie said, sounding amused. 

Merle laughed a little. "Sounds like my little sister, right enough. When they due back?" 

"Tomorrow. Said noon at the earliest," Maggie said with a smile and a shrug. 

"See? Settle your ass down, little brother, and help ol' Merle clean the kills. I cain't skin nothin' with only one hand, ya know." 

Daryl scowled. "How come you always make someone else do the skinnin'? You cain't skin it, ya shouldn't kill it, jerk." 

Maggie was laughing at them as Merle shuffled him out the door.


	41. There's A Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of potential rape/non con

The distraction worked for a bit, but that night found Daryl pacing the inner edge of the Hilltop's wall. Just like back at the prison, Daryl and Merle had found themselves victim of the old adage 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach'. In other words, Daryl and Merle brought food, and the Hilltop's people had fallen all over themselves to welcome them. 

Seems even a place as thriving as this one, with all its gardens and shit, liked fresh meat, and by extension, the redneck assholes who brought it to them. 

Daryl'd been sitting outside the trailer on a picnic table about five minutes ago, sharpening a knife and listening to the sounds of the women in the trailer chattering with Merle. Maggie'd come out to the little camp grill they'd set up, dishing more meat onto her plate from it. She'd seen him, and he'd been watching her from the corner of his eye. 

She came over and set the plate beside him without a word, just a gentle squeeze of his arm, and walked away. He saw her dash the tears from her eyes as she went. 

He didn't eat it- hell, he didn't need it- putting the plate on the steps instead as he headed for the wall. 

He wished Maggie would yell at him. Scream and rage and tell him she never wanted to see him again, that it was his fault Glenn was dead. He wished everyone would see that he wasn't no fuckin' hero, just an asshole who couldn't control his damn temper. 

He wished Glenn was still alive. 

 

First time Daryl met Glenn was on the road outside the quarry, way back in Georgia. Way back at the beginning, even before he'd met his girl. 

Daryl found it hard to believe there was a time between the real world- the first world, he guessed he should say, the one where he was just a drifter redneck asshole who was gonna end up in jail or shot by one of his brother's druggie friends before too much longer- and the day his girl walked into his life on the side of the road. He found it hard to believe he'd been dealing with the living and the dead and managing his brother's insanity without her there to turn to. 

Hell, he thought now, he probably wasn't managing it as well as he thought, which is how he'd ended up meetin' Glenn to begin with. 

Shane had given them hard looks when they'd strolled into camp and introduced themselves. Well, Merle introduced them, what Daryl's girl called his asshole voice (and Daryl just called his voice) booming out as he announced that the quarry's salvation had arrived in the form of Merle and Darylina Dixon. Daryl'd ignored the girl's name in favor of grunting and eyeing Shane back, pegging him for the cocky bastard cop he was. 'Course Daryl didn't know how bad he was at that point. 

After a day of hanging around familiarizing themselves with the camp and introducing themselves to the people, Daryl was more than done with the sideways glances and suppressed disgust on all these new people's faces. It was directed at Merle more than him, and he knew it, but that pissed him off to. None of them knew who they were, so why were they fuckin' judging him and his brother? None of them knew that Daryl's brother was a better person than most, underneath it all, and Daryl was just trying to put up with his shit until he ran out of drugs and found Daryl's brother in there again.

Course it didn't help that Merle wouldn't stop running his damn mouth. Daryl finally cracked when Merle was on his second sexist speech of the day, something about how all these women folk around meant maybe finally someone could wash out his drawers. Daryl stood up and stalked off without a word while Merle was in the middle of a sentence. He was pretty sure his brother didn't even notice he was gone. 

He went stalking down the road alone, heading he didn't even fuckin' know where. Just goin'. 

Then the beat up truck had come rumbling up the dirt path and cruised to a stop and Glenn had popped his head out. 

"Hey man. You need a ride?" he asked, and Daryl'd stared at him. 

"You shittin' me, man? You don't know me," he'd scoffed, and Glenn had shrugged. 

"It's hell out there. People gotta stick together. Hey, do you have anybody? People or a camp or something? There's a group of us up in the quarry, we'd be glad to have you." 

Daryl eyed him a minute longer. "Me'n my brother just met a bunch a people up there. I'm headin' out to see if I can find anything to feed 'em all." 

"Oh, I just got back from Atlanta. Got a nice haul. Here, you hungry?" Glenn'd reached into the backseat and held out a box of granola bars. Daryl looked from the box to him. 

"I mean deer. Rabbit. Squirrel. How the hell you get into Atlanta? City's overrun with them dead assholes," he'd said, not taking the box. Glenn slowly put it back into the truck. 

"Man, fresh meat sounds amazing! We're mostly eating canned stuff these days, because that's what we can find. Some fish when Andrea can get them. The city's pretty bad, but I'm fast. Know my way around, too, so that helps. Anyway, be careful out there. Nice to meet you and all. Oh, I'm Glenn," he'd added with a nod, and didn't reach out a hand, like he already knew Daryl didn't like being touched. Daryl'd jerked his chin in acknowledgement. 

"Daryl," he'd grunted, and kept walking. 

 

By noon he was stealing glances at the gates every minute or so, even as he helped Sasha lead a bunch of Hilltop residents in knife work. 

By three he was growling at people when they came too close, and Enid brought him a whole pile of newly-made spear tips to sharpen while he stared at the gate. Then she backed away slowly, eyeing him like he might try to bite her if she moved wrong. 

By the time Maggie came and told him dinner was ready, he was pacing in front of the gates like the damn tiger at the Kingdom. He kept himself from raging at her only because it was Maggie. It was Maggie, and he couldn't look her in the eye, much less growl at her the way he could at everyone else. 

He ate because she asked him to, grunting at everyone as he watched the gate and the way the sky was starting to darken. Where the hell were they? Where the damn hell was his girl? 

If she was in that place again, Daryl was gonna go in and kill every last fucker in the place, one by one and with his bare hands, until he got to Negan. Negan he'd use a knife on. Or let his girl do it. She had some pretty creative ideas on how to take the bastard out. 

"Baby brother, you're growling at the air," Merle drawled from beside him, and Daryl jerked and whipped his head to his brother. He scowled at Merle, who just grinned at him. 

"What the fuck you grinnin' about? See my girl anywhere?" he snapped. 

The smile slid off Merle's face, and if Daryl hadn't been Daryl and Merle hadn't been Merle, he'd have said Merle was praying for patience. But everyone knew Daryl was the patient Dixon brother.

His girl would have said that was the frightening part.

"She'll be here soon, little brother. You need to just settle down, son," his brother said, and Daryl's blood started to boil. 

He was on his feet and in his brother's face without thinking. "I don't need to do nothin', asshole. Maggie said noon, and it's damn dark. I'm goin' for her," he decided. "Ya comin'?" 

"Hell no you ain't, baby brother," Merle snapped. "You go out there and you'll get yourself captured or dead. Sit your ass down and trust your girl for once. She knows what she's doin' a hell of a lot more'n you give her credit for." 

Daryl was in Merle's face again, and his voice was a growl. "The fuck you say to me? You think you know my girl better than I do?" 

"Don't get your panties in a twist, little brother. Don't go down that road again," Merle warned softly, and Daryl's temper exploded. 

He'd dealt with Negan's shit, hadn't he? And he hadn't lost it. He trusted his girl; he knew she could handle that prick's come-ons and jokes and outright offers. He knew Merle didn't mean nothin' by it, that his brother just wanted him to calm down and have a little faith in her. But he didn't want her anywhere near Negan again. He kept seeing her standing there in the Sanctuary, on Negan's arm, looking like a queen on the arm of the king, and it pissed him off. Not because he didn't trust her or he thought she wanted to be there, but because he knew Negan could force her to. 

Look at Sherry and Dwight. Sherry'd gone with Negan to keep Dwight alive, and if his girl ever found herself in that same situation he knew what she'd do. 

She'd already offered to go with the bastard once, to keep Eugene safe. Eugene. Just imagine what she'd do now that Negan knew she was willing to sacrifice herself for one of them like that. He could threaten to take out the entire damn community if she didn't marry him. And then his girl would go with him and she'd be stuck there, with one of those little black dresses and terrified expressions, and- 

"I ain't goin' down any roads," he snarled at his brother. "I'm just askin' why you think you know my girl better than I do. Why you think I don't trust her." 

Merle sighed. "Little brother, you need to settle down. I ain't lookin' for a fight, son. Just don't want you runnin' off and doing anything stupid." 

"Now I'm stupid? Think I cain't take care of myself? I took care of her and me and the rest of this damn group long before your sorry ass decided to step up and be a decent human being! I been looking out for them since the beginning, when all you wanted was to sit around on your ass and be king of the damn quarry!" 

Merle's own temper started to flash as Daryl's voice rose and his gestures became wild. "I ain't never claimed I was no saint, or that you couldn't take care of anyone. I'm just sayin' you're gonna get your damn fool self captured again or worse, and then you'll land her in exactly the spot you're so all-fired bent to keep her out of!" 

Daryl growled under his breath and opened his mouth to respond when- 

"Hey, Dixons! Is there dinner to go with this show?"


	42. Sepia Tones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> past child abuse  
> past domestic violence

He'd been an asshole to his brother and he knew it. He tried to make it right, and Merle waved him off, sayin' it was forgotten. But Daryl didn't forget, and he knew he'd have to talk to Merle later and apologize right. Usin' his girl like that- it was a sore spot for them both. 

He knew how much his brother loved her, how much he cared. He hadn't been saying anything like it this time, but he knew he'd hurt Merle before when he'd accused him of making moves on his girl, after Beth had died. He really hadn't meant it like that, not today, but he knew how it could have sounded. He'd make it up to his brother. That was one thing about the Dixons he could always count on- no matter how much of an asshole either of them was to the other, they always fixed it eventually. 

Like that time when Daryl was eleven and Merle was sixteen, and Merle'd been getting ready for his first date with some chick from three doors down, pure trailer trash like the two of them and probably, in retrospect, perfect for his brother. But Daryl'd hated her with all the passionate scorn a preteen could muster for the girl the brother he idolized was obsessed with, directing all of his fear that he'd lose his brother if he started hanging out with girls toward her, and he'd set out to break things off before they even started. 

He'd slipped condoms into his brother's back pockets so that they'd fall out when Merle sat down. He'd stolen half of Merle's money so he wouldn't be able to pay for their dinner, then he'd siphoned a shit ton of the gas out of Merle's run-down junk heap he called a car. When Daryl broke the handle off so you couldn't roll down the window, knowing there wasn't any AC in Merle's hunk of junk, he'd thought he was the smartest kid on the block. Preteen shit that he thought would be the worst thing in the world to happen to him if he was with a girl, back before he had a fuckin' clue what the worst things in the world were. 

Soaking the seats, however, had been a stroke of genius in his personal opinion, even all these years later. Especially since he did it with deer piss. 

Merle hadn't found it nearly as funny as Daryl did, and had screamed so much Daryl'd actually gotten scared for a few minutes. Merle'd looked an awful lot like Daryl's daddy, and as soon as his brother saw Daryl's pale face he'd stopped yelling and looked so damn ashamed of himself that Daryl'd fallen all over himself trying to apologize and make it up to his brother. It took cleaning the car himself, two weeks of carrying Merle's book bag to school for him, and one apology to the girl for embarrassing her and making her sit in deer piss, but Merle came around. 

And Merle put himself in their daddy's path the next night when Daryl accidentally broke a lamp and got himself the belt for his trouble. Daryl didn't question if he'd lose Merle over girls again, 'cause he realized as he was stitching Merle's back up that there wasn't anything that could keep the two of them apart for long. Or so he'd thought, until Merle left.

 

"All we've got's each other, little brother," Merle'd whispered to Daryl one night when Daryl was young enough to still want to curl up in his big brother's bed after one of their daddy's rages. 

It might have been the first time he'd patched his brother up, dabbing carefully at the blood on Merle's split lip with shaking hands, and trying to position the little butterfly bandages just right on the cut on his brother's head. Merle might have been twelve, but he wasn't any older than that, so Daryl must have been six or seven. 

He'd been crying a little, hearing his daddy keep throwing shit around and yelling at the tv, and Merle'd called him over, had Daryl crawl up into bed with him. "All we've got's each other, little brother," he whispered to Daryl as Daryl snuggled down into Merle's blanket and Merle ruffled his hair. "I'm gonna take care of you, and you'll take care of me. Ok? Dixons stick together." 

Dixons stick together. 

When she stood there at the gate the next morning, obviously delaying getting in her car to go back to Alexandria, that was all Daryl could think about. Dixons stick together. 

The world kept trying to tear them apart, though, and he had to let it. He couldn't keep her here and couldn't go with her, so once he'd said his goodbyes he followed his brother up to stand on the wall and watch her drive away. If she had to go, he'd better fuckin' hold on to who was still there, and that mean making things right with his brother.

"I'm sorry, Merle. I'm an asshole when I'm scared about her," he said simply, and Merle snorted. He reached over and ruffled Daryl's hair as he scowled, but Daryl knew he was forgiven for real. Again.

"Yeah, I know. It's aight, little brother. All we've got's each other. Dixons stick together- including her, now."


	43. The Wind Blowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence

He ignored it when Rosita came through the gates, because Rosita wasn't his girl and he frankly didn't give a shit about anyone else right now. She nodded at him once and headed straight for the graves, and Daryl went the other way. He'd avoided going near them so far, because the last thing he fuckin' wanted was to look at Glenn's grave. 

He was perched on the table outside the trailer sharpening more spears when the bell started clanging and Kal started screaming about the Saviors coming. Enid raced out of nowhere and grabbed his arm as he jumped to his feet, saying they had to get Maggie. 

They found her fast enough, sprinting toward them from the gardens with a set expression. Daryl could hear the vehicles now, though, and he knew they wouldn't make it to the tunnel in time. When Maggie reached them and he grabbed her arm she said the same thing. As they sprinted around the corner, they saw Merle standing by the bolt hole, but the gates were already opening slowly. Daryl waved him on and Merle gave him an anguished look, but nodded once and stepped in, knocking the trap door closed. 

So his brother was safe. 

Enid was a smart one, though, and she hustled them along while giving a rapid speech to Maggie about her plan. Daryl didn't really hear her, distracted as he was by wondering how many of them he could take on at once if he needed to. She shoved Daryl and Maggie into the cellar, though, closing the door and telling them she'd distract anyone from entering. He didn't want to go- had his knife in his hand ready to fuck some Saviors up if he had a chance- but Maggie hissed his name and gave him that pleading look as she shifted the shelf in the very back to make a spot for them in the darkness. 

He went, because he had to go. 

It was Maggie. He'd do anything Maggie told him to do, including falling on his damn knife at her feet if that's what she wanted from him. 

 

 

When the asshole came in, he was ready. Asshole turned his back, Daryl raised his knife and started forward, and-

Maggie laid her hand on his arm and shook her head minutely. 

He argued with his eyes, like his girl did, but Maggie just stared at him steadily until the asshole left. He closed the door behind him, and a breath later Daryl lunged for it. But when he got there- 

He couldn't do it. He couldn't open the damn door and go after that prick, even though he wanted to. God, he wanted to. He wanted to kill them all. 

"You were gonna kill that guy," Maggie said quietly. 

"He was gonna find us," Daryl snapped a little, staring at the floor. He knew damn well the asshole wasn't- he'd been too distracted by fuckin' turnips. But Daryl felt the need to defend himself, felt the prickling guilt that welled up every time he saw or thought about Maggie, and he didn't want her to be disappointed in him any more than she already was.

"He wasn't, and he didn't," Maggie responded, her own voice sounding irritated. Damn it, Daryl did not want to piss off the pregnant lady. He'd done enough of that shit when his girl was pregnant. And the pregnant lady who owned his life for her husbands'? Yeah, he would die before he crossed her at all. 

"He deserved to die," Daryl said quietly, and he knew Maggie knew what he was really saying, and it wasn't about the Savior asshole. 

He deserved to die. Daryl Dixon deserved to die for what he made happen to Glenn. 

"Ever since you got here, you've hardly said a word to me. Would you look at me? Please?" 

Shit. God help him, he didn't- he didn't know if he could. 

But he heard her voice. The sadness. The need. He had to. She owned him, and as much as it hurt, as hard as it was, he turned. He turned, and she stepped toward him and whispered his name. That was what broke him, and he was crying. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered through the tears, voice barely audible. "I'm sorry." 

She was looking at him like she was confused. "But- it wasn't your fault," she said softly, eyes wide and sincere, and this was Maggie Greene. Maggie didn't lie. 

"It was," he choked out. She couldn't be more wrong. It was his fault, him and his damn temper. "It was. I-"

"No. It wasn't." Her voice was firm and she didn't look away, even when he tried. Because she wouldn't, he couldn't, so his eyes stayed on hers even as the guilt drowned him slowly. 

"You're one of the good things in this world. That's what Glenn thought. And he would know, 'cause he was one of the good things, too." She chuckled, just a little, and she was right. 

Glenn Rhee was one of the best things in the world. He met a dirty, angry redneck stalking down a dusty road while the dead were eating people, and he offered that redneck a ride and a place in a community and some food. Glenn Rhee let the man who beat the shit out of him and tried to feed him to walker into his home because Daryl's girl asked him to trust her. Glenn Rhee let that same man marry him to the woman who stood in front of Daryl radiating strength and compassion.

Glenn Rhee ran into an endless sea of the dead in the streets of Atlanta to get a bunch of guns and trusted a suspicious, semi-racist redneck to watch his back. He went into town- whatever town they were near- and got whatever was asked of him and never batted an eye. He walked into a store while Daryl and his girl were fooling around once on a run and turned bright red and backed out, muttering about how he'd just watch the road for walkers until they were done- and never mentioned it again.

Glenn Rhee stopped to help people locked in a storage container instead of running to rescue his own wife from cannibals and the dead, because 'that's still who we are'. 

Glenn Rhee gave the asshole who beat the shit out of him, got his friend killed in front of him, and nearly got Glenn himself killed a second chance, even going so far as to trust him to have Glenn's back when the whole damn town needed rescuing.

Because Glenn was one of the best things in this world. 

"I wanted to kill that guy too. I wanted to string them all up and watch them die. But we have to win," Maggie continued, a fierce light in her eyes. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, and Daryl flinched back. 

But this was Maggie. Anything she wanted of him, he'd give her. He leaned into her shoulder as she whispered into his ear. 

"Help me win."


	44. Failed to Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

He'd never expected to let Dwight live. 

That was Daryl's fault, and as the shit hit the fan the way it usually did, he kicked himself for letting the asshole go alive to double cross them like these fucking garbage people. 

Who the hell chooses to live in a landfill? Hell, Daryl Dixon was trailer trash through and through, but even he had fuckin' standards, man. And that Winslow business really pissed him off. Who puts spikes in a walker and feeds people to it? 

The same kind of motherfuckers who double crossed his people, that's fuckin' who. 

He glanced at his brother while Negan was going on and on about everything, and Merle glanced back at him. Merle's eyes shot upward, once, and the his brother blinked twice. 

Daryl's eyes tracked up to his girl on the perch above with Rick, and that freaky Jadis woman had a gun on them. 

Funny how his girl looked unconcerned about any of it as she yelled down at Negan, just cool as a ice despite the fear he knew would be raging under the surface in her. He'd held that girl after shit like this too many times to not know her heart was pounding and her mind was probably racing. 

She'd be laughing when the action started, though. 

He looked back to Merle and gave a tiny nod; he knew what his brother's motions had meant. Merle had a damn plan, and Daryl would follow his lead. What else could he do? 

Then Daryl realized Negan had Sasha in that damn coffin, and Negan started talking about all the bullshit he wanted. Daryl wasn't surprised when his girl was on the list, but it didn't stop the curl of rage growing inside him. 

Then all hell broke lose when Negan opened the damn coffin and Sasha was dead inside. 

 

Daryl wasn't really sure who fired the first shots, but he'd have bet good money on Carl, and when he had a minute to breathe and regroup with Merle, he looked around wildly to see if he could spot her. 

"See her?" he yelled at Merle, probably uselessly, because if Daryl couldn't see any sign of her, there wasn't nothing to see. 

"No, baby brother. Keep your head on straight now, we'll make it to her aight," Merle said, voice utterly calm and steady. Daryl glanced at his brother and saw that Merle's face was a smooth, set mask, and he had his gun leaned against the arm missing a hand as he competently reloaded it with the other. Then he swung the strap over his shoulder and had the gun back up in that professional way Daryl forgot his brother had. 

Daryl often forgot the dead weren't the first ones his brother'd fought a war against, and he was suddenly glad for the rock steady strength Merle showed at times like this. 

"Aight, man, what do we do now?" Daryl asked, voice calming as Merle's manner overflowed onto him, and Merle flashed him a grin. 

"Hell, brother. We kick some ass," he drawled, and Daryl snorted as the ex-army man disappeared and his asshole brother showed through for a minute. 

Then Merle's training took over again, and he was issuing orders to those of the ground guard that had managed to stick with them. Tara and Rosita were among them, and they stepped to Daryl's side grimly as Daryl checked over the gun he'd snatched off a dead garbage asshole. 

Daryl'd been the one to make him dead. 

"Ok, assholes, let's move!" Merle snapped, and Daryl fell into place at his brother's side as the whole mess of them started forward, heading up the street and shooting their way steadily back forward over the ground they'd given rapidly moments before. 

Then Daryl heard the tiger's roar, and he and his brother were moving at a crouching run, leading the charge upward. Daryl couldn't fuckin' believe what he saw as he came around the corner, because Kingdom people were pouring in, with Carol and Ezekiel in the lead.

Daryl knew he'd be worried about Carol later, but right now he was just damn fucking glad to see her. He saw Rick and Carl on their knees in the middle of the lawn, and he knew Negan had been there. He didn't see any sign of the fucker, though, and Rick started to scramble for a gun but there was an asshole right there- 

A shot dropped the asshole and Maggie's voice rang out over the noise as Daryl whipped his head around. There she came, Carl's girl Enid glued to her side and Ninja Jesus not far off, the Hilltop's people following her orders and fanning out. Maggie looked over and saw him and he nodded to her. 

"Move up now, we've got your backs!" he yelled back, and then he was firing some more as he fought his way to Rick. 

"Seen her?" he asked them as he pulled Carl to his feet, and Carl's face was white. 

 

There was no time for the kid to respond, because there were Saviors fucking everywhere, and then the goddamn garbage people started making smoke grenades or some shit. They were silent fuckers, too, and as they chased them down, Daryl was starting to think it was a lost cause. 

He'd lost track of Merle somewhere along the way, but ended up with Maggie and Enid and Jesus, who was using his damn ninja skills now. Daryl saw him one minute at Maggie's side, then tossed the hair out of his eyes and Jesus was fuckin' gone. He looked around and saw the man up ahead, snapping some asshole's neck before fading back into the smoke and then just popping up like a damn magician right back beside Maggie. 

He was glad Enid and Jesus were glued to Maggie like shadows, though, because it gave Daryl one less thing to worry about in all this shit. Somehow the Monk ended up with them too, and Daryl noticed one end of his damn stick was pointed now and covered in blood. 

Whatever fuckin' worked, man, he thought grimly. He had a girl to find. 

"Ya seen her?" he yelled over to the ninja when he popped up at Daryl's side, helping Daryl mow down a group of the garbage shits who didn't run quite fast enough. 

"Not since we first came in!" Jesus called back, and Daryl looked at him wildly. 

"Where was she then?" he asked, and Jesus suddenly looked worried. 

"Shit. She was with Rick and Carl. On her knees, in the field!" he yelled, and Daryl stopped breathing. 

"Did he get her?" He reached out and grabbed a fistful of Jesus' coat at the shoulder, not as threat so much as a plea. Jesus knew it, and there was suppressed fear in the other man's eyes as he shook his head slowly. 

"I don't know. I don't know! I just saw her for a second, and then we were busy-" 

"Shit! Shit!" Daryl exploded, and he turned toward the next group- just two of the Saviors- and emptied his borrowed gun into both of them with a wordless scream. 

Then he dropped the gun and ran for one of the trucks the garbage assholes had left, throwing himself up the ladder to scramble onto the top as the gunfire tapered out all over the town. 

The roar of truck engines reached him as he made it to the top, and he whirled to see two of Negan's convoy pulling out, and- 

"YN!" he yelled, voice cracking, as he saw Negan pressing her face against the window and flipping him off while they drove away.


	45. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past rape/non con  
> potential rape/ non con

Rosita was shot. Michonne was beat to hell and back. People were dead. Maggie and Jesus went out together and found Sasha, put her down. 

Daryl didn't fucking care. 

He didn't fucking care about any of it.

 

He didn't remember coming down from the truck or sprinting through the gate, but he sure as fuck remembered his brother come flyin' through the air to tackle him. He remembered throwing some punches and taking a couple in return while Merle cursed steadily at him and yelled at him to settle his ass down and think, goddamn it, think! 

"Ain't no use to her runnin' after without a fuckin' plan, baby brother, so- Damn it! Stop that shit, asshole!" Merle's head snapped back as Daryl got a hand free and slammed it into his brother's jaw, and all the sudden Rick was there, grabbing Daryl's arm and talking. 

Everyone was fuckin' talking, and no one was doing anything, and that bastard had his girl. 

"He has her!" Daryl shouted, and Merle's face twisted above him as his brother leaned down and got right into his face. 

"I fuckin' know! I know!" Merle yelled back. 

"He wants her alive, Daryl. We have to make a plan," Rick was saying, and Daryl started to struggle again as they kept him pinned down. 

"I know he does, Rick! What the fuck you think I'm fightin' ya so hard for?" Daryl snarled. "I know what he wants her for!" 

Rick let go of Daryl's arm and dropped his head, and Daryl saw the anguish behind his friend's eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I do too," Rick said softly. "I do too. Let him up, Merle." 

"Ya gonna run, or swing at me, little brother?" Merle asked, eyeing Daryl. "Just so's I know." 

"Ain't gonna do neither, asshole," Daryl muttered, and Merle shifted. He held out his hand, and Daryl let Merle pull him up to a sitting position. He hauled himself to his feet as Merle and Rick did the same. 

"I ain't gonna wait long, Rick," Daryl said seriously, looking Rick in the eyes. 

"I know. Me neither," Rick said simply. 

 

He pulled the gate shut behind him as they walked in together, but it didn't close all the way. He glanced down and saw the little carving, and he stared at it before he picked it up and flipped it over. 

Didn't know. 

Yeah, well, see if he fuckin' cared. 

 

They'd been planning for hours, and it still didn't seem like they had a fuckin' plan. 

Daryl paced the kitchen, listening to the council gathered around his kitchen table, much like the night before. He glanced at the clock and snarled. She'd been gone for ten hours, and it already felt like a lifetime. 

"Man, ain't ya talked enough?" he exploded, and the conversation around the table stopped. 

"Little brother-" Merle started, but Daryl flipped him off and ignored him. 

"Daryl." Maggie. Fuck. 

Daryl froze when she touched his shoulder, and she waited until he looked at her. Maggie's eyes had tears in them, and Daryl didn't want that. Not from her. 

"I know," she whispered. "I was there, remember? I know." 

Daryl did know. He knew the only person in the damn world who could know why he was so fuckin' scared right now was Maggie Rhee. She'd been with his girl, back at the prison. Back with the Governor asshole. She'd been right there in the room, been the one his girl took the hit for that day. She knew. 

"I've gotta get her," Daryl whispered, and Maggie nodded. 

"We will. We will."


	46. She Fell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past abuse  
> mentions of past drug use/ alcoholism  
> mentions of past rape/non con

She'd been gone for twelve hours, and Daryl was sitting on the porch rail- her spot- smoking a cigarette. 

"Ya mad at me, baby brother?" Merle's voice was quiet and Daryl heard the door click as Merle pulled it shut, but he didn't turn. 

The council of war had broken up and dispersed, but Maggie, Enid, and Jesus were staying in Daryl's house. Maggie was in what had been Carol's room, Enid was in the empty fourth room that had briefly house Gabriel when they'd first moved in, and Jesus had stretched out on the couch without even taking his coat off or nothing. 

Daryl got that. He was fuckin' exhausted too. But there weren't no way he'd sleep, especially not up there in their room. Not when the pillows and blankets smelled like her and he knew where she was. What kinda shit she was goin' through. He knew. 

"Naw," he finally muttered as Merle leaned against the railing beside him. "Ain't mad. Ain't sorry I punched ya neither." 

Merle snorted a laugh. "I ain't sorry I punched ya back, little brother. Here, gimme one." 

"Your pack, dumbass," Daryl said, tossing it to Merle without looking away from the road. "Ain't gonna burn the place down 'cause your shit in the attic, are we?" 

"Naw," Merle drawled, cigarette clamped in his lips as he thumbed the lighter. "Poured it out and cleaned that shit up. Tasted like piss." 

"All moonshine tastes like piss," Daryl muttered. "Been twelve hours, man." 

"Thirteen," Merle said absently, and tipped his wrist so Daryl could see his watch. 

"Shit." 

"Yeah." 

 

They finally had a plan that everyone seemed to fuckin' agree on by noon the next damn day. Trouble was, they needed some time to set that shit up. 

"How long, Rick?" he growled, up in Rick's face. It was so quiet in the house ya could have heard a pin drop, despite everyone and their freakin' cousin being in there. 

Maggie was at Rick's side. "Three days." 

"Days? Mags-"

"I know," she said softly. "I know. But it's the only way." 

"Naw, it ain't," he snapped, and it was Carl that spoke up. 

"He'll kill you. You won't be able to get in, much less get her out. I've seen his room, his harem's room. All of that shit is on the top floor. You can't do it alone. Daryl," Carl said seriously, and Daryl's eyes flashed to the kid. "You can't." 

Daryl yelled and grabbed the nearest thing to him- happened to be a chair- and tossed it behind him. Behind him, because while he wanted to break some shit, Maggie and Carl were in front of him, and he wouldn't risk hurting either of 'em. He yelled again and stalked to the door, slamming it behind him on his way out. 

 

Three days became four; four became five, and there was always some reasonable explanation and Maggie or Carl or Merle's serious face pleading with him to give them time. Just give them time. 

Before Daryl knew it, it'd been a fuckin' week, and Rick was walking up to where Daryl was checking his bike and cleaning his guns. Rick had that damn look, Daryl noticed, and he set down the handgun he had just reassembled as his hands started to shake. 

"What?" he snapped, and Rick ducked his head and looked up at Daryl with a sigh. 

"We need to talk," his friend told him quietly. 

Daryl saw Merle round the corner up the street, glance at the two of them, and start in their direction at a jog. 

"So talk," he growled at Rick, and grabbed the slide for the next gun, just to have something in his hands. 

Rick scuffed the toe of his boot on the ground. "There's been... a development." 

"The fuck's that s'pposed to mean?" 

"There's a herd. A big one." 

Daryl put the slide down when he seriously considered throwing it at Rick's head. "And?" 

"And it's got to be dealt with, Daryl. We can't ignore it," Rick said, jaw working as Daryl glared at him. 

"Fuckin' deal with it then. I'm gettin' my girl," he snapped, and Rick flinched. 

He flinched. 

"What?" Daryl roared, suddenly on his feet. 

"Baby brother-" Merle's voice came as he reached the two of them, and Daryl flung up a hand to keep his brother back as he looked at Rick. 

"Say it, Rick!" he shouted, and Merle looked between Rick and Daryl, confused. 

"We can't get to her. Don't- don't think I'm not pissed, too. Don't think I don't care too," Rick said, eyes flashing as his own temper rose to meet the look in Daryl's eyes. "But there's been too many thangs, Daryl. We have a plan to win first, and then we'll get her. We have to win, Daryl; it's what she'd want us to do." 

Daryl was standing utterly, perfectly still, every muscle in his body trembling with the sheer force of holding himself back. If he moved, he was gonna start punching Rick, and he didn't think he'd stop. He didn't think anyone could stop him if he started. 

Turns out, he wasn't the one Rick needed to be worried about. Hell, it wasn't even Merle who started the fight. 

It was Carl, coming out of nowhere and slamming his fist into his dad's jaw. Daryl actually jumped, not knowing the kid had been anywhere near, and then he was grabbing Carl's shoulders and hauling him off of Rick as Merle started laughing. 

Daryl threw his brother a dirty look, but it wasn't Merle's amused laugh, the big one that filled the air. It was a low, rumbling chuckle that had something to it Daryl didn't think he'd ever heard from his brother before and was already pretty damn certain he didn't want to hear again. It was his daddy's laugh, the scary-as-fuck one he got when he was stone cold sober and about to do something that would probably leave Daryl with a scar and some fresh idea of what hell actually meant. 

As his girl would have said, shit was about to go the fuck down. 

"Best leave your daddy there alone now, boy," Merle drawled at Carl as Daryl got between Carl and Rick. Rick hadn't moved except for when his head snapped as Carl punched him, and now he shifted and gave Daryl a worried look. Daryl returned it with one of his own, because fuck him if he knew what was going on in Merle's damn head. 

"Ain't ya daddy's fault they gotta think of the good of the group over the good of one," Merle continued, speaking to Carl without looking at him. He was staring out at something over Daryl's shoulder and Daryl didn't think it was something that was actually there. "And he's right, kid. Little brother, it is what she'd want. So it's what we gonna do, and you're gonna get ya ass on board and your temper under control, y'hear me?" 

"The fuck you talkin' about, Merle?" Daryl snapped, bewildered and scared. Merle's eyes came to rest on Daryl and sudden the man he was looking at wasn't his brother anymore. 

It wasn't any version of his brother he'd ever seen. Not the angry kid who'd done everything he could to keep his little brother safe; not the cold, sad eighteen year old who'd ridden off to the army without so much as a backward glance; not the crazy jarhead who'd rolled back into his life and turned it upside down with bikes and drugs and booze; not the redneck asshole drug-addicted mess he'd spent too much damn time cleaning up after. 

Not the brother he'd come to know since then, come to rely on and love. 

This version of his brother, whoever the fuck it was, stepped forward once, precisely, his shoulders squaring and his eyes hard. He looked between the three of them with bare moves of his head and when he finally spoke, it wasn't his usually lazy drawl. The redneck was there, but it was sharp, clear, direct. 

"This is now a war, gentlemen, and it's time it was treated as such. So y'all are gonna listen to ol' Merle, 'cause war? War's somethin' I know better'n any of ya. Now get the others and let's get our asses to work."


	47. Help Me Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

They snapped to and obeyed, and Daryl watched from slumped against the wall and his brother took command of a room of leaders with squared shoulders and an unflinching tone. He didn't ask; he told. He didn't suggest; he informed. 

And they responded to it. That was the thing- Rick, Maggie, Ezekiel, Carol, Tara, Rosita, Michonne, Carl, Jesus; the full freakin' council that was usually noise and dissent and personality. They sat down and shut up as Merle pointed to things on maps and lists and snapped out information. They asked questions, made suggestions and refinements, but this was Merle's fuckin' show and everyone there knew it. 

Daryl realized this was the brother who'd waged war. Not the one who'd run away to war as a sad, angry kid; not the one who'd come back from war as sad, angry, broken man. The one who'd waged war with the confidence of training and the just might of the American fuckin' government at his back. The man who planned and delivered death to probably more people in his eight years in the army than Daryl'd killed walkers since the world ended. 

He was fuckin' glad this version of his brother was on his and his girl's side. 

"Daryl," Merle's commanding voice snapped out, and Daryl raised an eyebrow at him. Just because his brother was stepping up and running this show didn't mean he had to treat him any different. It was still fuckin' Merle. 

"What?" 

"We need Dwight. I know ya think he's shit beneath your shoe-"

"'Cause he is," Daryl muttered, and his brother raised his voice and kept speaking without a break or change in his tone.

"- but we need to know what he knows. He's on the inside; we gotta use it. Get him a message. He'll keep her safe, little brother." There was finally a shift from the military precision of Merle's voice at the end, saying Dwight would keep Daryl's girl safe. It was just enough to stab at Daryl's lungs, and he held his brother's eyes for a moment before he finally nodded. 

He might hate Fuck-face Dwight, but Daryl'd do anything for his girl, including try to trust him again. And they'd already lost almost a whole damn week. 

"Aight. Time table. This is gonna be precise, people, so make damn sure we are all on the same page," Merle continued, turning back to the map and looking at the set faces around the room. 

 

It took another two days of carefully coordinated frenzy to be ready, but when Daryl looked over everything his brother had planned and put into motion, two damn days was fuckin' impressive. 

He'd gone off the bare bones of the original plan, modified and twisted to suit their needs. And to have 'minimal risk of loss of life', because even if Daryl just wanted to light the place on fire and watch it burn, his girl was in there. 

As well as, he grudgingly admitted, a whole host of other people just trying to stay alive. The workers and even Negan's damn harem weren't to blame. Rick and the others had cautioned that neither were most of the Saviors; they were just men and women who wanted to stay alive, to protect their own, same as Daryl. 

Daryl only went along with offering a chance for them to surrender because his girl's voice was in his head from all the way back at the beginning, on a sunny, peaceful farm in Georgia as she lay with her head in his lap to keep him still so his stitches would heal. Yeah, he'd fuckin' known what she was doing, but he had her close so he won either way, didn't he? It was one thing she'd said- something along the lines of 'society is determined by the rules people choose to follow'. He guessed most of those Saviors were just following the only set of rules they had available at the time. 

So he found himself crouched outside the Sanctuary with binoculars and his crossbow, waiting for his moment in the evening light. He was hoping, desperately, heart-poundingly, to catch a glimpse of his girl, but he knew that wasn't likely. 

Negan wasn't going to let her out of the fuckin' bedroom, if what Carl had told him in a scared and furious undertone about Negan's plans for her was any indication. 

He had to stop thinking about that, Daryl realized as his grip on his crossbow tightened and rage rose up inside him again. Had to believe she'd be ok, or he was going to march in there now and start slaughtering everyone he saw until- 

Dwight walked out, alone, and shoved a cigarette in his lips. 

Daryl waited, watching as the fucker sank to his knees beside the bikes and sighed, tipping his head back to look up at the sky. Daryl checked to make sure no one else was around, and then he took his shot. 

 

Dwight jumped when the arrow sank into the tire beside him, getting to his feet and scanning the area rapidly. Then he grabbed the arrow, read the message, and looked around again. 

He bent over it, scribbling something down, and wrapped it around the arrow again before stepping over the fence nonchalantly. His stolen bow came up, Dwight took another quick scan of the area around him, and shoved the bow through a gap in the fence before firing the arrow off in Daryl's general direction. 

Then Dwight was gone, crushing out his cigarette and going back inside the compound without another glance. 

Daryl moved from his hiding place and found the arrow on the ground a few feet away. He snatched it up and got the hell out of there without even opening the message. He'd read it later, when he was out of their territory. 

Daryl couldn't be this close for much longer without doing something stupid. 

 

 

Seemed Dwight was on their side still after all. Merle's eyes had held fierce satisfaction as he scanned over the list of lookouts Dwight had scribbled and shot back to Daryl. 

"Seems we have us an inside man, boys and girls," Merle said, and it was a close approximation to his usual drawl, but not quite right. "Some of these are different from what little sister has marked on here. Brother, that woman would have made one helluva general. Negan must've moved things around some, knowin' we'd be comin'." 

Merle bent over the map and made new marks, then pulled another piece of paper toward him and started scrawling new assignments as he reworked things to fit around the updated information. 

Daryl would go where he was told to go. He'd do what he was told to do. And if he saw his chance, no matter what the risk, he was gonna get his girl out of there. 

Even if it killed him.


	48. My Own Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> references to past rape/non con

Daryl was pacing the road in front of the gate at Alexandria long before the others were up and moving, and Rick gave him a worried look as he walked up. The armored car fleet wasn't leaving just yet, but Daryl was hitting the road soon to begin his part. 

Tara and Carol had strolled up a minute ago, talking quietly together. They would be leaving at the same time he was, heading to their mark to make sure the herd was moving along like they needed it to, or do something about it if it wasn't. He glanced over as Tara came up to him and wordlessly wrapped a green band around his arm, matching the one on hers. She gripped his shoulder for a second, meeting his eyes with a grim smile. 

Carol didn't come over to him at all.

The cars and Rick would head out to the meeting place in about an hour, to join Maggie and Ezekiel's people. Carl, Michonne, and Rosita were staying behind in Alexandria; Rosita and Michonne because they were hurt and Carl to be in charge of defending the place while they were gone. 

Daryl thought that was a pretty damn good choice, since the only other person more likely to fuck shit up trying to rescue Daryl's girl was the kid. 

Daryl's role would take him all over the place, but not close enough to the Sanctuary to do anything crazy. He wasn't happy about it, but he didn't blame them. Merle had given him a speech at full Dixon discussion volume just a few hours before, and Daryl had stormed out afterward to pace here at the gate and watch the sky begin to lighten. 

It'd been seven days, fourteen hours, and some fuckin' handful of minutes since that bastard had driven away with Daryl's girl, and he was tired of letting her rot there. Even the goddamn Governor hadn't had her this long, and Daryl remembered- vividly, viscerally- how bad things had been for her there. She'd been a wreck physically and mentally, and it had taken a long damn time for her to recover. 

How much fuckin' worse was it gonna be after this? How much would she hate him, hate all of them, for leaving her in their grasp? 

He should have just gone that first night, gone and made a deal with that crazy bat-wielding bastard. Lucille could have as much of Daryl's blood as she wanted if it would mean his girl's life. 

"Daryl, we're starting soon. You've got to keep it together, brother," Rick said softly as he reached Daryl's side. He stepped into the path of Daryl's pacing and tried to catch and hold his eye. "We will win. We have to win."

"Been eight days, man," Daryl snapped. "Been eight days, and this plan of y'alls ain't even about gettin' her out. So leave me be and let's just fuckin' go!" He raised his voice and flung his arm toward the gate as Merle strode into view. 

"Easy," Merle drawled. "It's time. Remember your job. I know ya hate me a little right now, baby brother, but be safe. She ain't gonna forgive me if anything happens to your ass," he added grimly, and unexpectedly pulled Daryl into a hug. 

Daryl was surprised into hugging back, hard, and then they slapped each other's backs once. "Don't hate ya," he muttered, not meeting his brother's eyes. "You be careful too, man. She cain't take ya bein' dead again. Rick." 

He didn't give him or Rick time to respond, jumping on his bike and gunning it. It was finally time to move, and he was ready to get this shit over with, and soon.

Coming for ya, woman. 

 

 

He roared past the lookout in the tree first, his body currently serving as breakfast for a couple of walkers. Tara and Carol clearly hadn't had any problems getting by, then, and he parked where his brother had indicated to sneak up on the next one on the list and clear the way for the armored cars coming from the Hilltop.

The asshole was sitting on a car, watching the roads but not his damn back, like a cocky son of a bitch. Daryl snapped his neck and stole his cigarette before it hit the ground, and sat on the hood of the car as he looked the asshole's gun over. Bastard had kill tallies painted in white on his gun. A lot of 'em. 

Daryl kept the gun and the cigarette, smoking it to ash on his way back to his bike.

 

He hit the overpass a little early, since the asshole didn't take long at all to put down. The other three were waiting there like they were supposed to be. Tara had a fuckin' Twizzler in her mouth and an obvious attitude behind those ridiculous orange sunglasses, but she jerked her chin in a nod as Daryl hopped off the bike and went to lean against the wall beside her. 

The bow on her back reminded him of his girl, and he jerked his eyes away from it before he thought about it too much. 

His eyes fell on Carol and the Monk, with their matching armor and white Kingdom arm bands. Guess they were Ezekiel's now; and that hurt a little. Knowing Carol was well and truly gone from their little family sent a pang through him. She'd been the first to really befriend either him or his brother, back at the quarry, and she'd only grown closer to him and his girl and his brother. Their little house wouldn't be the same without her. 

Daryl pulled out his brother's pack of cigarettes, offered one to Tara who shook her head in amusement, and settled in to wait.


	49. Blackened Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

"Here we go," Tara said, glancing at her watch. Daryl climbed to his feet and joined the other three as they all looked to the road. "Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One." 

And nothing. 

"Shit," Tara muttered, taking her most recent Twizzler (she'd been through two while they sat around and Daryl smoked and Carol paced and Morgan did meditation or some shit) from her mouth and glaring up the road. They'd worked this out, and it all hinged on timing- and timing the fucking herd. 

So of course the fuckin' herd would be late. 

"No! There," he snapped, as the first of the walkers appeared around the trees. They were coming up fast, like they knew they were needed for something. 

Or maybe Daryl was just finally losing his damn mind, assigning meaning to the speed of a bunch of dead assholes who didn't have enough of a brain among them to have a motive for doin' shit. 

Tara shrugged as she saw them. "Okay. Close enough." 

"Aight, let's go," Daryl snarled as the herd came closer, heading toward his bike as the other three jogged to Morgan's car. 

He gunned the engine, bringing the moaning mass of them's attention to where they wanted it- straight ahead- and led the way to the next stop. 

As they pulled out, right on time, the vehicle they'd left behind blew up. No turning back now. 

 

 

They strung the tripwire on the path Merle had chosen and Dwight had backed him up on in his note, and Daryl was actually worried as they waited. Trusting that double crossing bastard didn't exactly make him happy. He'd put faith in Dwight more than once, and people he cared about kept ending up dead or worse. 

His girl was going through the worse. 

"How close are we?" Tara asked a minute later. Daryl grunted. 

"Close." 

 

 

The Monk took out a wandering walker and had to duck and cover as the convoy approached. It was on time, so he guessed maybe Dwight was for real after all. 

Cars flew up the road and then cars were flying through the air as things went boom, plan going off without a hitch. This was the part where his girl would have been braced for something to go wrong, since she claimed no plan ever went right past step three.

 

When the explosions stopped, the Monk strolled casually back to where the three of them waited. Daryl was leaning on his bike watching the fires and waiting for the walkers, sipping from his water bottle. Tara and Carol were waiting with him, all of them observing their handiwork with grim satisfaction. At least, Daryl was, and he suspected Tara was too. Carol he wasn't so sure about.

"It's started," Carol said then, like she'd read his mind, and she sounded sad. It occurred to Daryl that she always seemed to sound sad now. He hoped maybe when this was over she could find a way to be happy again. Maybe when this was over she'd want to be their friend again. 

"Yeah. It was always gonna be this way," he said by way of answer. Carol gave him a long, hard look, like she was trying to decide if he was mad at her in particular or the world in general. It didn't take much thought to realize it was the world in general Daryl was pissed off at, but deep down, he was mad at her too. 

She'd left him just as much as she'd left his brother, and she'd done it without a word. From the looks of that armor and that armband, she wouldn't ever come back. He wondered if she cared about how much that hurt. 

The herd came stumbling around the corner, drawn by the noise and the fire just like they'd planned. Tara checked her watch, looked at them, and nodded. 

"Pleasure doing business with you," she said dryly. 

"Beat 'em," Morgan added with a nod, and the two of them were getting in the car together to head to their assigned outpost. Shit was on a roll now, and it was coming together like clockwork. 

Daryl felt a stab of pride in his brother's skill, and a cold tendril of guilt for the way he'd been acting toward him- again- the last few days. He was starting to realize he might have learned more from his daddy than he wanted to believe, and taking life out on Merle was part of it. Daryl swore right then, staring at the walkers coming up and getting ready for what came next, that he would make it a point and a priority to be better than that. He owed his brother too much for that shit to be his habit.

"We will," Carol called an answer to the other two's retreating backs. Then she surprised him, wrapping him in a hug where he perched on his bike. Her armor was hard and unyielding, but Daryl hugged her back awkwardly, grateful for this little sign that she was still his friend Carol; that she still gave a shit about him. About the Dixon clan. 

"Be careful. When you get her, tell her... tell her I'm sorry," she whispered, and he grunted. 

"Tell her yourself. We still love ya, idiot. You can come home any time. And shit, this? This is gonna be fun," he added, nodding toward the walkers. They were picking up speed now, the ones in front catching sight of him and Carol. 

Carol pulled back and looked toward the walkers he was staring out into. She sighed. "No, it isn't." 

"Better than lettin' things be, though, right? And we gotta get her back." 

"Yeah," she said softly. "I still love you, too, pookie. All of you," she added, touching his cheek. 

Then she was gone. 

He stood up, checked to make sure the asshole's tally marked gun was fully loaded, and straddled his bike. Time to blow some shit up. 

 

 

Wasn't this how all this shit started? Daryl and his bike and shit ton of dead assholes he was trying to lead somewhere, then living assholes trying to keep him from his girl? 

When were they gonna learn?

He pulled the gun from his belt and fired periodically at the explosives Merle and Jesus had painstakingly positioned the night before. Each one went up in a cloud of noise and fire and fury, and Daryl felt a wild satisfaction growing as he got closer and closer to the Sanctuary, an army of the no longer dead and always hungry hissing and moaning and stumbling along behind him. 

He was pulling up to the final two targets, and he could see the Sanctuary towering up in the sky. He fought hard with himself not to just keep going, and lead that damn herd all the way to the gates himself, fight his way in, and drag his girl out of there. 

But he didn't, because then he would have been screwing all of them over. Not to mention getting them trapped in there, because there really were a shit ton of these rotting jerks. 

He peeled off and headed toward the meeting point, aiming up the road and firing his last shot at the remaining bundle of explosives, grumbling a little under his breath. It'd been decided by unanimous vote of every-fuckin'-body else that he didn't need to be anywhere near Negan or the Sanctuary. After all, he might get a little stupid and do something crazy. 

He almost did something stupid and crazy anyway, but he heard his brother's commanding voice in his head, ordering him to play his part so the rest of them could play theirs. Reminding him that there was more at stake than just his girl, and even though she was damn important, she wasn't all that was important. It was a tough fuckin' pill to swallow, but his brother was right.

Guess the good of the many did outweigh the good of the one. He just wished his girl wasn't always the one who got fuckin' shafted in that.


	50. Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> flashbacks to past rape/non con   
> flashbacks to past injuries from rape/ non con

He got to the rendezvous early, go figure. Bike was faster than the armored cars, and hell, they'd built in time for this very reason hadn't they? Some parts would move faster'n others. That's what Merle said, so there was no reason for him to be freaking out over it. 

And yet. 

Everything hinged on the walker army, and the walker army was the least reliable force, in Daryl's opinion, ever assembled. He wanted to pace or head down the road toward the Sanctuary to look for them himself, or chew his thumbnail ragged. He'd already done the last one; he'd worn a track through the grass at his feet; and he had almost convinced himself a drive was a good damn idea when the first of the cars appeared on the horizon. 

Daryl let out an explosive breath and leaned against his bike, crossing his arms like he'd been waiting there casually the whole time. He didn't want to let Rick or Merle know how close to the breaking point he was, 'cause they'd try to convince him to sit the next part out or go home or some other completely ludicrous idea. 

Cars pulled in, people waved or nodded or whatever and spilled out of open doors, talking excitedly about how easy that had been. This was just the first step- plenty of time for shit to go wrong still- but they were acting like they'd already won. 

Wasn't he just a ray of fuckin' sunshine? 

He finally saw what he knew was Merle's car, or s'posed to be at any rate, and he shoved off the bike and stalked toward it, suddenly pissed as hell and ready to fight all over again about trying to break the Sanctuary wall and end this quicker. Two more days of this shit might kill his girl, if she wasn't- 

He cut that thought off quick as shit, glancing past his brother's car as Rick's came up the road last, a bit behind. He spared a minute to wonder what that was all about, cause it was sure as hell bad news instead of good. Then he scowled again, meeting Merle's eyes through the windshield, and his fuckin' brother was smiling. 

Why the hell was he- 

"Don't just stand there, little brother!" Merle barked at him as he climbed out of the car, grinning like the shithead he was. "We got shit to attend to!"

Daryl was about to make a smartass remark, even though he was busy staring at his girl's face- somehow, impossibly, rolling her eyes at his brother as she started to scoot across the seat- but he saw her expression change and her eyes go wide. 

She said something as she sprang to his brother's side, but Daryl saw the blood smeared on her thigh and his heart stopped. 

-Or hasn't anyone noticed the blood on my jeans?- 

He hadn't gotten a flash of that dead voice, those dead eyes, in ages- aside from his nightmares. Now it flooded back, her grimly listing injuries to end a damn fight over his brother that shouldn't have happened in the first place. 

Here she was, and he didn't fuckin' know how, and she was helping his brother sink down to the ground against the car. Daryl needed to go to help, make sure his brother was alright. But his own head was spinning, his ears ringing with the sound of her voice in a truck bed on the side of the road after he and Merle had gotten her away from a man who kidnapped her. He saw how pale Merle was, saw his girl's lips moving as she spoke to his brother, but over it all he was seeing that streak of blood down her leg and blood on the legs of a pair of jeans she didn't know he'd taken and burned, crying his eyes out for her as he did so. 

Then she hitched one leg up and slid over his brother's lap to take a look at his arm, and someone was running forward with one of the Kingdom's medical backpacks.   
He snatched it from Tobin's hands and moved, finally- dropping to his knees as his girl cradled his brother's arm gently and went white as a damn ghost. 

Shit, he thought when he got a look himself. That was gonna be bad. Stomach still churning and his girl's bruised and broken body in his mind, he did his best to act like he remembered Hershel had in these situations- cool and calm, even in the face of Daryl's wild rage and spreading panic. 

"Fuck, man. The hell'd ya do?" he asked, trying to keep it casual. He was succeeding, almost, until his girl whispered an answer and nearly tipped him spiraling over the edge. 

"Took a swing from Lucille for me." 

For a minute, all Daryl could see was some fucked mash-up of two of the worst moments of his life: the bag coming off his head in the Governor's goddamn arena and his girl and his brother facing off with Negan and his fuckin' bat. It was like one of Daryl's nightmares come to life and shoved right there in his face, but the thing was, he didn't have time for this shit. 

His brother was already damn pale and Daryl knew he was still losing blood. If he wanted to keep his brother alive, he had to fuckin' act. 

 

 

He wasn't really sure later how he did it; how he pulled the armor off his brother's arm or stitched up the five- five, damn it- separate places that needed it. He spent some time later on thanking every god he'd ever heard of and the fuckin' devil too that he'd had so much experience putting Merle back together as a kid. Then he spent another ten minutes thanking them all over again for the steady presence of Rick and his girl, 'cause no matter how much he'd done it before, Daryl'd been in no shape to handle it then. 

If it hadn't been for Rick's voice in his ear, he doubted he'd have made it.

Course, then he had to set his brother's damn arm, where he was pretty sure it was broken in two places. That was something else he'd had plenty of practice with, and with Merle not bleedin' all over the place, he felt some of the fog and the fear settling down. He got it done easy enough, though his brother screaming and actually passin' out for a few seconds was enough to send his pulse spiking right back up. 

Rick took over at that point, though, jerking his head toward Daryl's girl with a worried look. 

Fuck. His girl. 

Daryl's heart picked up speed so much he was afraid it was going to come straight out of his chest, and between one blink and the next he was on his feet and looking down at her. 

She was wearing some little black dress, hugging her body, and some fuckin' heeled shit that she never woulda come close to if she'd had any choice about it. Plus, her hair was out of its usual braid, tangled and falling all up in her eyes the way he only saw it at night, when it was just the two of them, or laid out over her pillow while she slept. 

She stared up at him from beside his brother, clutching Merle's hand so tight he could see the white in her knuckles. He focused on that, forcing back the image that was trying to sear itself over his vision again, trying to blur the line between the reality right in front of him and the terror in his mind- a picture of blood smeared on denim, his girl all stark contrast between too-pale skin, lurid bruises, and the man's shirt that swallowed her whole. 

His brother's shirt, he knew now. 

She was rising slowly, and he was trying so damn hard not to think about where he'd seen an outfit like the one she was in before. He was good at not thinking, not noticing, not putting things together. She was standing and whispering something that ended with 'Dixon' and tugging down the hem of that dress, looking for all the world like she was as scared of talking to him as he was of talking to her. When she started to scrape off the blood on her leg, her lips turning down into a tiny frown even as she glanced back up at him and the hair fell into her face, he was finally able to say something. 

"You- you aight, woman?" he asked, and he could barely hear himself over the roar of his own blood in his ears. 

She looked up, eyes wide, and her gaze shot around the clearing as something raced over her face. He was staring so hard, looking for every little twitch, that he caught it all as he stopped breathing- fear, panic, worry, guilt, and finally shame; shame that had his heart stopping for a beat as a blush rose up her cheeks. 

"I'm fine, Dixon," she said, and her voice- 

Her voice wasn't the dead one he remembered; that he'd braced himself to have pierce his heart again. He'd heard her speak before, he realized, and it hadn't been dead then either. 

But her eyes slid away from him as she said it, though they snapped back immediately, and they weren't the walker-empty things he saw in his nightmares. They were huge and glossy with tears and full of shame and guilt and worry, but they weren't what he feared. So he didn't know if he should be reassured or not, and he tried again to ask what he needed to know.

"He- did he-" 

But he couldn't do it; he couldn't get it out. The full force of what he was seeing in his mind and in front of him- his girl having been taken, only to be returned to him in someone else's clothes; blood smeared along the inside of her thigh; his brother bringing her out of captivity- hit him like a ton of bricks and he curled in on himself as he took it like he would have taken a physical punch. He reached out for her without thinking, just knowing he wanted to hold her, comfort her, no matter what the answer was. He snatched his hand back right away, terrified to push her if it was true. 

The Governor had her for one day. Negan had her for eight. She probably wanted to be held right now about as much as he wanted a dog food sandwich. So not at fucking all.

Suddenly she was touching him, her hands framing his face as she met his eyes, something in hers wild and crazed- the look he'd seen when he'd risked glances at her when Negan brought him to Alexandria; the look she'd given when she was scared out of her mind for him. And she was speaking to him, and he couldn't- he couldn't process what she was saying for a minute, because it wasn't- 

"He didn't. Didn't even try. It's a weird story, but I promise. I wouldn't lie about it. He didn't touch me."

He didn't touch me. 

There was a bit of a hitch to her breath as she spoke, some flash of what he read as guilt, but he was too- he was too damn relieved. He lunged forward, scooping her up and holding her to him, and he would be embarrassed later at the way he was crying and she was whispering things to reassure him, instead of the other way around. 

She was the one who'd spent eight fuckin' days with goddamn Negan, and she said he hadn't touched her, but she was still dressed like one of his so-called wives, and- 

Wait just a fuckin' minute. 

How the hell was she here? They'd been telling him for days there was no way to get her out of there, and now they put their plan into motion and he wasn't allowed to go with them to the Sanctuary, and she was right the fuck here; how? How? 

"She got herself out, idiot," Merle snapped when he demanded that. Hell, Daryl should have expected that from her. 

But she'd said Merle took a swing from that damn bat for her. 

"Baby brother, we gotta get moving. Little sister, darlin', you need to take one of these cars and haul ass back to Alexandria, aight? We got more to do today, brother," Merle was saying, and no. 

There was no fuckin' way he was going anywhere that wasn't with her. 

"Hell naw," he growled, and her own response wasn't far behind. 

"Like fuck am I running back home! Give me a weapon, Rick!" she snapped. Just like that, Daryl was back in a dark room, with people with guns trying to find them, hearing her voice for the first time since they'd found her. 

-Give me a weapon, Rick.- 

-Or hasn't anyone noticed the blood on my jeans?-

He must have moved, or done something, because she was turning beside him, studying him with a confused face and a lifted eyebrow. He stared back at her, searching again, making sure her eyes were her own, not the dead eyes of the woman Rick'd lead out of a shack in Woodbury. 

But no, they weren't. They were his girl's, his warm, sarcastic, quick witted, deadly survivor of a woman, who- according to his brother- had gotten herself out. She hadn't needed rescuing. 

"Here, woman," he said simply, not bothering to explain what he felt, and slapped a gun into her outstretched hand. 

It was different this time.


	51. Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Morales was holding Rick at gunpoint. 

Fuckin' Morales. Daryl hadn't thought about him or his family in ages, not since they drove away from the caravan at the quarry, heading toward Birmingham while the rest of the group went to the CDC. Smartest decision Daryl ever made was going with Rick Grimes' plan, and it looked like the dumbest one Morales made was not coming with them. 

Well, the second dumbest. The dumbest thing Morales ever did was hold a gun on Rick Grimes while Daryl Dixon was in the building. 

Daryl'd separated from Rick and his girl to clear the last floor, looking for those goddamn guns Dwight had fuckin' said were there. He was pretty damn sure the asshole'd been lying- or at the very least, that they weren't there anymore. Daryl was just self aware enough to know he preferred to hate the man rather than give him any benefit of the doubt. 

He'd been fine; hell, he'd been better than fine. Their plan was workin', he had his girl back- a fuckin' miracle- and even more, she hadn't gone through any of the shit he'd been spending the last eight days imagining. She was there and whole and ready to kick ass, even in that dress. 

Shit, she'd been keeping up a steady bitch fit about the thing, but she was also keeping right up with Daryl and Rick, just like always. His girl could do anything, Daryl knew, but climbing an elevator shaft in a short ass skirt, borrowed shoes, and with her hair all over the place was fuckin' impressive even for her, no matter how much he and Rick teased her. 

But then he'd found the closet. It was a little hole, just like the one he'd been in, and there was an empty plate and can of dog food and an empty handcuff hooked to a pipe in the wall. 

And that just pushed him over the edge of some strained damn nerves. 

When his girl gave him a look and raised an eyebrow as Morales named the dead- Lori, Shane, Andrea, Glenn- he shook his head. She knew what that meant, and her face settled into hard lines as she started forward. She'd gotten damn silent, moving like a shadow into the room, and was nearly on him when Rick gave her away. 

Morales started to turn, and Daryl fired the shot. He didn't hesitate, and when the man was down with Daryl's bolt between his eyes, he didn't feel any damn remorse either. Man had turned Savior, and Daryl didn't give a shit what had happened to make him do so. 

Shit had happened to all of 'em. Every damn person still alive had lost someone, but not all of 'em turned into bastard killers who chained people up, stripped them down and fed them dog food, beat them up. Not all of 'em had turned into psychopaths who took women hostage and tried to have their way with them, make 'em wear shit they didn't want to and do shit they didn't want to. 

He hadn't gotten the story out of his girl yet, but he knew Negan. There'd been some fucked up stuff happening there, even if he hadn't done as he'd threatened. 

Rick was lookin' at him like he'd done something terrible, his eyes all wide and concerned. "That was-" 

"I know who it was," Daryl interrupted. He did, and he didn't give a shit. He was a Savior, and the Saviors? They needed to die. 

 

 

There was a shit ton of gunfire pinning the three of them down, and Daryl was a few doors over from Rick and his girl. He was keeping them back- thought he'd even hit one too- but then his gun clicked. Rick's went right after, and Daryl was wondering what they could do to get out of this shit when his girl muttered something to Rick and caught Daryl's eye. She had her gun drawn and flashed a gesture at him- countdown; three seconds. He nodded, getting ready to run in three, two, one- 

She shot once, and chemical fog filled the air as Daryl threw himself from the doorway he was in to theirs. Rick caught him and steadied him, and he heard the shouts as the Saviors started to approach. He felt her tense and shift up to the balls of her feet; could picture the light in her eyes and the slight smile on her lips as she got ready for the fight. 

He'd had some bad moments over her blood thirsty ways since he'd found her again on the road after the prison fell; moments when he'd wondered if the casual violence she exuded at times was too much. Sometimes he still wondered, but now? He got it. 

He knew she'd lost a lot before he even found her. Knew she lost even more- the dream of building something, of civilization and community and sustainability- when the prison fell. And when she lost their baby then too? Well, it'd been a blow Daryl felt, but not the way he thought she did. Their baby hadn't been real to him; not really. He'd wanted it to be, but it wasn't. And he didn't go through losing it like she did. 

Now, after Beth and Denise and Abraham and- and Glenn- Daryl got it. Once the loses stacked up and up and up, there was a point where you just quit caring about shit. Daryl had hit that point on the floor of a cell, dog food sandwich at his side and a photo of one of his best friends' bashed-in head taped to the damn wall, while that bullshit song had blared.

He'd hit that point again when motherfuckin' Negan drove off with his girl, and now Daryl didn't care about the killing. He didn't care if she enjoyed it or looked forward to it. Hell, he was enjoying it some himself as the Saviors reached him and he grabbed one and tossed him down the elevator shaft behind him. 

His girl started to laugh as the bastard screamed on the way down, and Daryl didn't even care about that. He cared about winning.

When it was done, and his brother called out to them, and his girl was complaining about them taking the stairs, he did the only thing he gave a shit about doing anymore and grabbed hold of her to pull her close and kiss her hard. 

 

 

He and Rick had argued with Merle for five full minutes about whether or not he could go to the second outpost when his girl took matters into her own hands. Daryl tried to smother a laugh when she snatched up a rifle and tossed it at Merle with a raised eyebrow and dared him to fire it. 

She'd have said she asked him to, but Daryl knew a dare when he heard one. 

The look on Merle's face when he realized he'd been neatly cornered was priceless, and Daryl'd barked out a laugh despite his worry over Carol and the Kingdom's troops. 

He laid open the throttle on the way there, her clinging to his back and laughing as the wind whipped by them both. Hell, he'd laughed a little himself, more at her obvious delight than anything else. His girl was a goddamn mystery sometimes. He knew she was worried about Carol, about the plan, about Merle; but here she was, enjoying the high speeds with as much wild exhilaration as she could muster. 

She was the definition of survivor, he thought; able to not only get through, but bounce back from the worst shit life fired at her. 

She ducked and rolled off his bike and sprinted away without a pause to check out the compound while he and Rick took down the retreating vehicle. Daryl knew those guns were in there, and he couldn't help but be glad she'd chosen to bail. Without her on the bike, he wouldn't worry as much if he had to do some risky shit or about wrecking out. 

Daryl'd wrecked out on a bike enough times to know he could walk away from almost any of them and how to make sure a wreck was one he would walk away from. If she'd been on the back, he would have had to worry about just plain not wrecking out, and that would have been pretty damn impossible when he was trying to take on a bigger vehicle.

 

 

He closed on the army truck easy enough and grabbed his pistol, steering one handed as he aimed. Then he was screaming 'fuck!' to the wind as the tailgate of the truck dropped and some shit bastard was sitting there with one of those damn Brownings all set up and- holy hell- firing at him. 

Daryl was doubly grateful that his girl wasn't on the bike anymore, because he was going to crash right the fuck now. 

He did, eating pavement and gaining a long strip of road rash from his shoulder to his hip, but he was on his feet again almost immediately as the truck barreled down the road, Rick in his Jeep in hot pursuit. Took more than one little crash to take down a Dixon, Daryl thought grimly as he wrestled the bike up and took off again. 

 

Rick steered his way around the walkers in the road a helluva lot better than the other vehicle did, and Daryl was on a bike. He'd been avoiding dead bastards on a bike for way too long for three of 'em to be a problem, especially at the speed they were going. He pulled up behind Rick, staying close on Rick's ass so he'd been in the other guys' blind spot. 

When Rick's Jeep took a hit and the gun kept firing, Rick glanced in the mirror and then jerked the wheel, and Daryl took his shot. Took two bullets, but he nailed the gunman, though he wrecked his damn bike again in the process. 

Oh well, two wasn't that bad, all things considered. 

He got himself back up and passed Rick's Jeep in the grass, watching as the army truck went over the side of the embankment. He leaned his bike against the guard rail and hauled ass to see if his friend was down there. 

"Hey," Rick said mildly, making more noise than a bull in a china shop as he pulled himself up through the overgrown grass. Daryl shook his head and reached down a hand, hauling the man up the last few steps. Idiot looked like shit, but they stood side by side and stared down at the truck. 

"Boys," he heard his girl call, and she was jogging up toward the two of them, eyes raking over them and dancing. "I see we won," she said as she reached his side, and Daryl tossed his arm over her shoulders and pulled her in. 

"We got the guns," Rick intoned, deadpan.


	52. Man Is A Fickle Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

They had the guns, and according to the asshole, Ezekiel, Jerry, and Carol were alive. He'd even convinced his girl to stay up on the hill while he and Rick got the guns, thanks to some bullshit Rick said about keeping an eye out for walkers. 

"Give me a hand with this," he told Rick as Rick came considerably more slowly around the truck. They wrestled the first massive ammo box down and Daryl snagged a bag as Rick opened the sucker up. 

Daryl started stuffing in explosives, bullets, everything that was in there. "We can use these now," he said to Rick, expecting his friend to get it. To want to end it as much as he did. 

"What?" Rick asked, and Daryl heard the warning in his tone. 

He didn't give a shit. His girl was out of there, they were short an entire community of fighters; now was the time to hit hard. 

"Think about it," he said, looking down at Rick where he crouched. "There ain't no Kingdom no more." 

"Yeah," Rick said, drawing the word out and giving him that look. Blood running down the side of his head, brow wrinkled, head tilted to the side as he looked up at him. 

Daryl fuckin' hated that look. 

"We know what we gotta do," he snapped. "We blow open the Sanctuary, let the walkers flood in. They'll surrender. It'll be done. Hell, we could end this by sundown!" 

Rick sighed. Fucker actually sighed. Daryl knew what that meant, knew Rick was going to try to talk him out of it. Didn't he get it? Daryl's girl was safe; now they had to keep it that way. Had to keep his brother, Maggie, Carl, Judith, every-fuckin'-one safe. Best way to do that was to end it quick. 

"They have workers in there, right? Families too? Are there?" Rick asked, standing up and gesturing at him. 

That gave him a pause. But- he wanted to win, at all costs. Didn't he? 

"We'll hit the south side of the main building," he said after a beat, staring at Rick earnestly. "Workers live in the north side. They'll be up the stairs before the walkers even get in." 

"What if they don't? There are people in there who aren't fighters. Doing this could change that. Make them pick up guns and stand by the Saviors. And if the Saviors don't surrender, maybe everyone fights us. And we don't have the Kingdom anymore." 

Shit. Daryl thought about. He weighed it in his mind, almost ready to agree, but then Rick opened his damn mouth again. 

"We're not doing this," he said, and fuck Daryl if he didn't remember a night on the side of the road with Rick declaring that it wasn't a democracy anymore. 

And that had been all well and good. Daryl didn't fucking mind then, and he didn't really mind now. They needed a leader, someone to make the hard decisions. As he'd told his brother one night, Rick had done aight by him. 

Rick had. Until now. Until this past week, when Daryl's girl had been in a monster's hands, and Rick had delayed and delayed and delayed. 

He knew that wasn't right. That it wasn't Rick leaving her there to suffer; that it was Rick being a leader and doing what he needed to do. It didn't matter to him though. He was pissed at the man; pissed that he knew what he was sentencing Daryl's girl to with every passing moment. Didn't matter than it wasn't true. In Daryl's mind, Rick had known, and Rick had put the good of everyone else ahead of the good of Daryl's girl. 

It was what a good leader should have done, but it was what Daryl's friend, Daryl's girl's friend, absolutely should not have done. 

Daryl could have forgiven Rick for leaving him behind for the good of others, but not his girl. 

"Naw," he said now, that anger covering his better judgement when Rick issued the order. "You ain't doin' this." 

He stalked away from his friend, but Rick followed him. Rick grabbed his shoulder and Daryl whirled, but Rick knew him well enough to let go immediately. For some reason that just pissed Daryl off more- probably because it reminded him that Rick did know him well, that he was a good enough friend to know not to grab Daryl when he was pissed like this. 

"There's a plan. Everyone's sticking to it," Rick hissed. 

"Not everyone," Daryl shot back. "There's a lot of our people that are dead, Rick. Things change, man. Negan and that other group, this is on them. If people die, it's their fault, not ours." 

"Daryl, we can't do this," Rick said as he started to walk away again. Daryl turned back again, getting right up in his friend's face. 

"We got our own people to look after!" he yelled, then really did walk away. But of course Rick followed him, talking about how he wouldn't let Daryl do this. 

Like Rick didn't realize he'd never let Daryl do anything. Daryl followed Rick's orders because usually, usually Rick did the right thing. The thing Daryl himself would have done if he'd been in charge. Or he followed him because he was the kind of man Daryl wanted to be. But Daryl didn't march to Rick's drum because Rick was in charge of him. Daryl did it because he wanted to. 

But now, this was what Daryl wanted to do. End this goddamn war for every single person he loved, including Rick Fuckin' Grimes.

So when Rick grabbed his shoulder, it didn't matter that he was Daryl's friend or his girl's friend. He was just the guy trying to make Daryl do something he didn't want to do, and Daryl punched him. 

 

 

Course, he didn't forget that Rick was his friend for long, and when the engine of the truck caught fire, he hauled Rick to his feet and both of them shoved Daryl's annoyed-as-hell girl ahead of them. That was one thing Rick had going for him, Daryl begrudgingly admitted as he sat there beside them both and watched all those damn explosives do what they did best and explode right along with the truck. 

He really did care about Daryl's girl. 

"Idiots!" that girl snarled at both of them then, tossing her hands in the air and leaving them sitting there to stare at the exploding truck wordlessly.

 

 

"Choke hold's illegal, asshole," Rick muttered at him, and that almost got Daryl to crack. 

"Mm-hmm," he agreed, not looking at Rick even though he wanted to; wanted to grin at his friend for bringing up that particular memory. "Yes, it is." 

He remembered that fight too, damn it, Rick.

 

"Merle! Get your ugly ass out here! Got us some squirrel. Let's stem 'em up!" 

"Daryl, why don't you slow down a bit. I need to talk to you," Shane said urgently, and behind him came the new guy. Crisp white shirt and that posture- Daryl pegged him as a cop like Shane with one glance.

"About what?" he asked Shane, shoulders going tight at the asshole's tone and the way every damn fuckin' body in camp was lookin' at him. 

"About Merle," Shane said, and Daryl braced himself. 

His fuckin' brother, man. What the hell did he do this time?

"There was a- there was a problem in Atlanta," Shane said, and there was somethin' he fucking well clearly didn't want to say. 

Daryl looked from Shane to the new guy, who'd placed themselves across from each other, Daryl in the middle. Fuck, he'd been right. Cop, and somehow, they knew each other. 

"He dead?" Daryl asked bluntly, figuring that was why Shane was bein' so damn cagey. If Merle'd just been his typical asshole self, they'd tell him right off. They were always bitchin' at him when Merle did shit, like they thought there was somethin' Daryl could do about it. If Daryl'd been able to do anything about his brother's bullshit, he'd have done it years ago.

"We're not sure," Shane answered, and just what the fuck was that supposed to mean? 

"He either is or he ain't!" Daryl snapped, pacing now. He didn't want these people to know he was worried; didn't want them to know how the scars on his back had started to burn at the idea that his brother might be gone. 

And why the hell were they all starin' at him like he was some damn bomb about to explode? He brought down and tracked that fuckin' deer, didn't he? He kept watch, didn't he? Kept them fuckin' fed? 

New guy opened his mouth as he came closer, and Daryl turned his hot glare on him. 

"No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it." 

'Course then the asshole didn't actually say anything, so Daryl shot him a glare and a sneer. "Who the hell are you?" 

"Rick Grimes." 

Shit, that Carl kid's name was Grimes. He'd talked Daryl's ear off over the last deer he'd brought down, the one the kid had helped him skin, about how his dead daddy'd been a cop, and Shane's partner. Daryl'd thought that was real interesting considering the shit he'd seen Shane and Lori doin' in the woods, so he'd noticed. Could this really be the kid's dad? 

Why the hell was he wonderin' that when his brother was maybe dead? 

"Rick Grimes, you got somethin' you wanna tell me?" he shot out, all the eyes on him making him mad; making him act more like Merle than like himself. Fuck it, why weren't they just telling him what the hell had happened? 

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there." 

Damn, this Grimes character was stone cold. And that sounded exactly like his jackass brother, but what the hell? This asshole just handcuffed him to a roof and left him there? Tears burned in his eyes at the idea that his brother might be gone, so he dashed a hand across his face and went on the offensive. 

"Hold on. Let me process this. You're sayin' you handcuffed my brother to a roof, and you left him there?!?" He was shouting the last bit, maybe not having the best grip on himself after all. 

"Yeah," Rick Grimes declared, and Daryl stared at him for one long moment. 

Then he threw the fuckin' squirrels at the guy's head. Even in the moment, he didn't know why he did that, of all things. He just reacted, fear for his brother and fear for himself spiking through him and making him lash out. If Merle was gone, weren't nobody in the world who would give a shit about him. These people would keep his redneck ass around until he wasn't useful anymore, or until he pissed one of 'em off; then they'd leave him somewhere like they'd left Merle. 

'Course as soon as he threw the squirrels, Shane'd come barreling in and knocked him down, and that was it. He really didn't like either of these dicks, so he yanked his knife and hauled himself up, taking a wild swing at the new guy. New guy ducked back and then knocked the knife from Daryl's hand, and as he did, Shane the Pain came up behind him and put him in a headlock. 

"You'd best let me go!" Daryl screamed. 

"Nah, I think it's better if I don't," Shane said easily, moving him into a choke hold and slowly bringing him down. 

"Choke hold's illegal," he grunted out as he went to the ground, and he heard Shane's amusement. 

"Yeah, you can file a complaint. Come on man, I can do this all day," he said as Daryl struggled, and then damn if the new guy didn't get right level with Daryl. 

"I'd like to have a calm, reasonable discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that?" 

Who the hell was this guy? Rick Fuckin' Grimes, man. 

 

Rick Fuckin' Grimes, Daryl thought as he roared away with his girl on the back of his bike. Always knows what's right, even when he's wrong. 

Daryl might have hated him. He wasn't really sure. 

Asshole better be careful with those garbage people. If Daryl had to come save his ass from himself, he was gonna be fuckin' pissed.


	53. You Were Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut-adjacent
> 
>  
> 
> I seriously believe I am incapable of writing actual smut; sorry, this is as good as you get.

He snapped at Merle as soon they pulled up, still more'n a little pissed at Rick for not letting him just end the whole damn mess, then feeling guilty on top of it and worried about his friend heading out to meet people who'd double crossed them before. People who's betrayal had led to Carl nearly getting killed and Daryl's girl getting taken by Negan. 

Fuckin' garbage people. Assholes. 

Then he snapped at his girl when she called him on his bullshit, because of course he did. Merle jumped to her defense immediately, like Merle always did, and it pissed Daryl off that once again his brother was defending his girl from him, so he turned to get into it with his brother for the ten millionth time that damn week. She stopped him, though, pinning him with a look. And he got her meaning without her having it say it, because Rick was right. Rick was fucking right and Daryl knew it and that pissed him off to. 

He just wanted her safe. That's all. He just wanted her safe. 

 

 

He stood there in the steaming bathroom, trying to see how bad the road rash on his back was and wondering guiltily if he'd done any damage to Rick. He'd told his girl he'd apologize when Rick got back, but Daryl thought he probably needed to do a little more than that. He'd probably have to offer Rick a free shot, and he wasn't looking forward to that. Man had a fuckin' fierce hook. 

His girl was gonna roll her eyes and call them both morons if she was there for it, so he'd try to time it so she wasn't.

"What else you got, Dixon?" his girl said wearily from the doorway, in a display of timing utterly perfect to her. He tried to blow her off, not worry her about it. It was nothing. 

She wouldn't let him, and as her fingers feathered over his back, he was glad. 

He missed her when she wasn't here. Even when she was dumping that damn peroxide into the worst of the damage on his back, he was just happy she was with him. Especially when she looked at the torn-up shoulder again and declared that he'd live as she ghosted a kiss over his skin. 

"Wanna tell me what happened with Rick?" she asked, and he didn't. He really didn't.

But he wanted to keep her in this bathroom, wanted her under his hands and in his arms, where he could tell she was safe; so he cracked a joke when she did and pulled the borrowed shirt off of her. 

When he was sure she wasn't injured he pulled her close and breathed in the smell of her, nodding into her shoulder when she asked about the shower. Yeah, he wanted to jump in there and drown himself in her, block out the mayhem and the fear. But not yet. 

Turned out he wanted to talk about what happened with Rick after all.

"I wanna kill 'em all. Soon as I saw him drivin' away with you- I'd have set fire to the place myself. Was out the gate and heading there on foot when Merle tackled me. Shit, woman. I didn't know what to think. He said all that shit, 'bout makin' you his wife. I knew you'd do whatever he asked if he threatened here. I know ya, damn fool. Cain't keep yourself out of harm's way to save your life." 

She made some comment he mostly ignored in favor of keeping his hands moving over her skin, reassuring himself she was still there and still ok, and getting out what he was trying to say.

"Every time I think I'm the scaredest I'll ever be, somethin' happens and I realize there's always somethin' worse. Tired of it. Tired of bein' scared. I fought Rick 'cause he wants to do the right thing, the good thing. He wants to save people'n build something. But Negan, he saves people. He builds things. I just wanna win, woman. I just wanna win and be done with this bullshit. Wanna be safe; want you'n'me'Merle, every one of our people, safe. Even if it means lettin' innocent people die."

And it was true. It was true, and he hated himself for it, but not enough to try to change it. He'd let everyone in the Sanctuary burn or turn, even the ones who were victims as much as they'd been, if he knew it'd keep her safe. He'd do a lot on the possibility it would keep her safe. Her, Merle, Carl, Rick, Maggie and her baby, Judith, Tara, Carol, Michonne, Rosita, Enid, Aaron, Tobin, Morgan- even that freak Ninja Jesus- these were Daryl's people, and he wanted- he needed- them to finally, finally be safe. 

No matter the cost. 

 

 

She talked him down, as she usually did, and then she distracted him. She was really fuckin' good at distracting him, not that it took much doing. They'd been going through hell here lately; what felt like an eternity of being split up and heart-stopping danger and coming together for a few wildly exhilarating hours before being ripped apart again. He was tired of it all, and just wanted her close. 

It wasn't even necessarily about sex; more about just having her there to ground him. To remind him of what they were fighting for; to settle the terror that was always simmering just under the surface of his mind; to show him there was good in the world still. It wasn't all Negans and Dwights and cells and baseball bats. 

But then she stood there, hair soaked and slicked back and water running down her face and her body. She was looking at him with those eyes and giving him that smile and well. This was the language they spoke best anyway, and he had a lot he needed to say to her. 

So he told her with his hands how scared he'd been for her and how glad he was that she was safe. He told her with his lips on hers that she was it for him; if she was gone, so was he. He told her with a growl as he backed her against the shower wall that she needed to fuckin' stop throwing herself in front of danger and be more damn careful. 

He told her he loved her with his lips to her cheeks, brushed over her closed eyes. 

He told her he needed her with her whispered name and a low groan.

She spoke back, this language the two of them knew; her fingers light on his jaw saying she understood and she was safe. Her hands digging into his arms saying she'd been just as scared, just as worried for him. The way her lips clung to his saying she needed him too. 

The light in her eyes and the smirk on her lips when he pushed her into the wall saying as clear as day that she'd stop putting herself out there just as soon as he did. 

His name, low and breathless and with that tiny edge of laughter, sounding more like 'I love you' than when she said the actual damn words. 

Yeah, they had quite a conversation, the two of them. The water ran cold while they did, and neither of them noticed.


	54. Oats in the Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Negan was at the goddamn gate. 

Daryl was already awake when he heard the voice crashing over Alexandria like a tidal wave, and he and Merle hit the hallway at the exact same moment. 

“How the fuck did he get out?” Merle growled, but Daryl only shrugged. 

“What’s she say? Always goes to shit on step three?” 

Merle snorted as he snatched up the backpack full of food and water and they headed out the door. They left it wide open behind them, and all around they could see the other Alexandrians doing the same. They’d practiced for this, hoping it wouldn’t happen but knowing they needed to be prepared if it did. 

 

 

“You have three- count 'em, three- minutes to open this gate, or we start bombing the shit out of you!” 

His girl and the kid were standing by one of the trucks, and she looked loaded for bear as his daddy would’ve said. He and Merle jogged up to the two of them, and the others from their family converged at the same time- Tara, Rosita, Michonne. 

Carl started talking immediately, outlining the plan he’d had them practice but with a few minor changes. People objected, wanted to fight, but Daryl agreed with the kid. It was just houses and shit. It got destroyed, they’d go out and get new shit. They’d done it before. 

But these people needed to live. 

That’s when he realized that it wasn’t at any cost. He wouldn’t risk his people, so why was he so willing to sacrifice others? Shit. 

He didn’t have time for a crisis, though, because Carl was doing something Daryl didn’t know if he liked after all. He was splitting up the Dixons, and that tended to backfire for all involved. Merle he got, and he was actually damn grateful the kid sent Merle down to the sewers with the town people. His brother was going to get himself killed- for real this time- if he kept trying to be a damn hero. 

But his girl? Carl wanted her to do the final sweep of Alexandria and then hit the sewers herself. His reasoning, as the kid told his woman, was that she was the fastest and one of the best hand to hand fighters, so collecting everyone and then defending them if necessary would play to her strengths. And, he’d added with a grim look at her, he didn’t want her to get picked up if anything went wrong with the convoy. 

She’d looked a little too agreeable and hadn’t argued nearly enough, and Daryl didn’t know what he thought about that. Especially when he and Merle’d looked at each other and then her, and she’d given them an innocent look. 

Shit, she was gonna do something stupid. 

Now Daryl was left with the question of what he was going to do about it. Every bit of him screamed out to stay with her, to keep her glued to his side where he could keep his fuckin’ eyes on her. Seemed every time they split up, even for a few hours, she was having near death experiences. He just wanted her safe, damn it! 

Then his brother slapped him on the shoulder and Daryl heard his damn voice in his head, telling him over and over and over not to treat her like a victim, to trust her, to listen to her. Merle raised his eyebrows at Daryl, and he finally heaved a sigh. 

“Be careful, woman,” he whispered to her, and took off to do his damn job. 

 

 

They took the last two of those garbage assholes' trucks, and Daryl spared a second to worry about Rick as he worried about Carl and Merle and his girl. Daryl was turning into a damn mother hen, he was doing so much worrying. They added a couple other vehicles to the convoy, just to make it look convincing, and Daryl took the lead. 

It was just the four of them, planning on ambushing the shit out of the Saviors who’d inevitably pursue. Daryl was ready. He wanted a good fight. 

He didn’t really want to crash this truck through the back wall of Alexandria, built to be an emergency exit but never, to his knowledge, actually used as such. But hell, he wasn’t gonna let one of the others be the one to do it, either; and no, damn it, that wasn’t some egotistical macho bullshit. 

It was common fucking sense. Daryl was bigger; he could take a harder hit and keep rolling. Hell, Michonne and Rosita were both still healing from the last round of shit Alexandria’d dealt with. So he was in the damn lead. 

 

Well, holy fuckin’ shit, it worked. Bonus, there were only a couple of cars for his truck to smash out of the way, and then they were out. He slowed the convoy just enough to make sure the Saviors picked up their tail and then he laid it open. 

'Course, it was a garbage truck, so layin’ it open didn’t mean the same as it would have on his bike, but still. 

It did the trick, and they set their trap and beat the bush into the woods, Daryl tossing a couple of smoke bombs out there to fog things up nicely for good measure. He’d taken them from the back of the van packed for the next day, feeling mildly guilty because the kid was planning on using those pretty heavily, but he figured if three smoke bombs made the difference between life and death for Carl, things had gotten way worse than any of them wanted to live through. 

Now they waited, sitting in the dark with nothing but time to worry. 

Daryl Fuckin’ Mother Hen Dixon didn’t need time to worry; he was good at doing so while they were busy. Now he wondered what was going on at the other communities: was the Hilltop under attack? What about the Kingdom? Kingdom didn’t have any goddamn fighters left but Carol, so how the hell would they survive something like this? 

And how did these bastards get out, anyway? 

Shit. He had too many questions and not enough answers, and for fuck’s sake, where were the Saviors? 

“Where the hell are they?” Michonne whispered in an echo of his own circling thoughts.

 

 

Daryl was ready for a worst-case scenario situation, where the person leading them was actually competent and recognized that the fog hovering around wasn’t actually fog after all. That wouldn’t be ideal, and they’d probably miss some of the bastards, but they could still do some serious damage before having to sneak away. 

That wasn’t what happened. The lead car drove right into the middle of Daryl’s trap, and the trucks followed along blithely. Daryl shot a quick thanks to that karma bitch for deciding to swing in their favor for the moment, and got to work lighting them up. 

They poured out of the vehicles and started shooting back, of course, but he and the others had a pretty decent definsible position. He kept shooting, trying to keep an eye on where all of them were going, because Daryl was the one in charge of this shit. If Saviors started to hit the trees, they ran. 

None of them hit the trees. 

Thing was, he knew he and the women with him were good shots. Hell, they were some of the best shots- except maybe Michonne, who was a badass with the sword, but honestly not so great at rapid aiming- but they weren’t good enough to mow the Saviors down like it seemed they had. 

One minute there was a lot of fire coming their way, the next the silence that descended was heavy and thick. It was broken again a minute later, by a single gunshot, and all of them were on such a hair trigger they opened up all over the vehicles before realizing it had only been one. 

He told them to stop shooting so he could listen, damn it, and they followed his lead. That thick, surreal quiet came down again, and there was nothing. Daryl rose slowly, ready to head down and take a closer look, when someone yelled up to them. 

“It’s over!”

Daryl muttered some of Merle’s most vile suggestions and watched Tara’s eyes get wide. Fuckin’ Dwight with his fuckin’ messed-up face had been the leader on this shit, apparently. Daryl figured he owed the man just enough to head down there and kill him face to face, so that’s what he did. 

 

 

Someone had shot the dick in the arm, and Daryl couldn’t find it in him to give a shit about that. He did give a shit about what the bastard was saying, unfortunately. 

“I made sure you guys could get out the back. I drove the convoy right up to the road block. I knew what it was.” 

He finally dropped his gun on that, and Tara gave him a dirty look but followed his lead. He didn’t say anything, just stared at the asshole who was still wearing his fucking vest. His brother’s damn vest.

“I can’t go back. One of ‘em got away. She’s going to tell them,” Dwight continued, and all right. He guessed the bastard was on their side completely now. 

Daryl was still gonna kill him. Eventually. Right now, though, he was a source of information, and they needed information more than Daryl needed revenge. 

“How’d they get out?” he asked sharply. 

“It was Eugene,” Dwight answered after a moment, and shit. 

Little cowardly bastard had gone full traitor, then. Not that they hadn’t known that before, but Daryl knew it would hurt the others. He’d never really given a shit about the guy one way or another, but Rosita and Tara had been his friends. They weren’t going to be happy about him cozying up to the enemy. 

Then Daryl remembered somethin’ his girl had told him, what felt like ages ago- about Eugene saying he could make bullets, and got more than a little worried. 

“I can still help you,” fuck face was saying. “I know how they work, how Negan thinks. I want you to win. I want Negan to die.” 

Daryl wasn’t impressed, but the bastard had a point. They’d need all the help they could get now that Negan was out and was pissed. They were down the Kingdom, Alexandria was probably about to get the shit beat out of it- allies were becoming pretty thin. 

“We can settle up after,” Dwight finished softly, and that struck a chord in Daryl. He met the man’s eyes with more respect than he’d ever felt for him. He wasn’t backing down. He’d help them win, even knowing Daryl was planning on killing him after. 

Daryl was uncomfortably aware that in Dwight’s shoes, he’d have done a hell of a lot of the things Dwight did. It pissed him off, because he didn’t want to respect the asshole any. He was still the fucker who’d kidnapped Daryl, then stolen from him when he tried to help them, then killed Denise and tried to break Daryl in the cell.   
But he wasn’t trying to say he was anything but that. He wasn’t trying to say he should get a pass because he was helping them now. All he was asking was to help make Negan dead before Daryl killed him. Sadly, Daryl could respect that.

He ripped his vest off the asshole’s back, makin' Dwight scream, and started walking back toward home. He had somewhere to be- again. 

 

 

Explosions were going off inside. He could see the flames even from here, outside the walls. The dead bastards were coming out of the trees and up the roads, drawn by the noise and the light. 

Another home, up in flames. Daryl wondered what this was going to do to his girl. 

He was the first one down, to make sure everything was safe inside, and then one by one the others came down. He helped Tara and Rosita get their footing, but Dwight he let do it on his own. Served the fucker right. 

He was waiting on Michonne when she shoved the grate back into place and Daryl started swearing again. 

 

He could climb back out there and look for her. Hell, that’s what he probably should do. After all, she was one of his. One of the family. 

But his brother and his girl were waiting for him further down in these sewers, and so were Carl and Judith and all the rest of his people. Tara and Rosita were with him, and he had to get them to the rest as well. They needed as many of their fighters around as possible, just in case the Saviors found them down here. Their original plan had fallen all apart at step three, so they had to assume their back up plan would fall apart even worse, right? 

Hell, that was some shit his girl would have said. 

“It’d be suicide to go back up there,” the shit stain whose life Daryl’d saved one too many times for comfort whispered to him. That made Daryl’s mind up for him, but not in the way Dwight probably thought. 

Daryl wasn’t about to send Dwight in among his people, in there possibly to his girl, without being right there to keep an eye on him. 

“Shit. She’s tough; she’ll be aight. C’mmon people, we got jobs to do,” he snapped, and lead the way into the darkness of the tunnel.


	55. Bite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon what cannon?   
> cannon typical violence  
> references to past abuse  
> references to past rape/non con and attempted rape/non con

She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there, and his brother was looking at him with hard, pinched eyes; a look Daryl hadn’t seen since the week his brother’d come back from war. 

He’d been sober then, but not for long after. Merle’d walked into the trailer to see Daryl stitching up a cut in his arm, the place a wreck of broken lights and bottles and shit, and Daryl with a shiner and a busted lip as well as the gash he was sewing closed. Merle’d turned and walked right back out the door, and Daryl’d found him two days later, high as a kite and giggling on the side of the road. He knew now that Merle hadn’t known their daddy was beating on him after Merle left. Merle’d believed it’d stop with him gone, and knowing what he’d left Daryl in had broken something that’d barely been holding on by a thread anyway.

So Daryl was panicking more than a little, especially when Merle gave him a look and led him over to where a pale and sweaty Carl leaned against the sewer wall. The new guy, the doctor, was looking at the kid’s ankle and prodding gently. Every prod had the kid wincing, but he said nothing as he took it. 

“Whatcha think, man?” Merle asked, and Daryl flinched from his own brother. 

Merle sounded just like his daddy- cold and hard and angry; one wrong word away from killing the next person he saw. 

“I believe Carl’s ankle is broken. I can make a splint with what is available down here,” the new guy said, not meeting anyone’s eyes. As he moved over to the pile of gear everyone had brought down, Daryl did another scan of the assembled faces. 

Shit, his girl still wasn’t among them. 

“She’s up there,” Carl said, and even the kid’s voice was flat and damn scary. “She saved my ass, we fought our way to the grate, she got me down. And then she closed the damn thing and left, and I couldn’t get back out there.” 

Carl was furious, and scared, and Daryl knew it. 

He snapped anyway. “The hell didn’t ya make her come down first? You know how she is!” 

“Could you have?” Carl snapped back, rage filling the kid’s one eye. 

Well, shit, that was a fair point. Daryl frowned and tried to figure out a reply, but the sound of feet up the tunnel stopped him. He and Merle exchanged a look and a nod, and Daryl pointed at Carl as he tried to climb to his feet. 

“Stay put, kid.” 

Carl frowned, but Daryl and Merle were already gone. 

 

 

She was a bloody fucking mess and Daryl wasn’t at all surprised. He was goddamn terrified, but he wasn’t surprised. 

How many times had he scooped her near-dead body up and run for help? How many times had her blood stained his hands and arms and clothes? How many times had he held her hand while someone looked her over and his stomach churned at the sight? 

How many times did he have left in him to keep doing it? 

He clung to her hand in a fucking sewer lit by candles while he listened to bombs explode overhead and his brother paced and spewed profanity behind him. The doc had a grim look as he worked to keep Daryl’s girl from bleeding out. 

“Can you please move back, sir? I need room to work,” Siddiq was saying to the hovering Rick, who he just met about ten minutes before. 

Daryl gripped his girl tighter as Siddiq started wrapping up her leg. “Better not fuckin’ die on me, woman,” he whispered brokenly. 

 

 

“So are we just not going to talk about the fact that she’s holding Negan’s head?” Carl asked, sounding like he couldn’t believe he was saying those words. 

Daryl couldn’t believe it either, and he was staring at the thing himself, clutched upside down by part of the spine in his girl’s fist. He’d already tried to take it from her once, and she’d held on with a rigor mortis grip, fingers not bending at all. Daryl’s heart had stopped, thinking she was gone, but then her head had jerked side to side as he’d tried to tug the grisly thing away from her. 

“We tried to take it from her too,” Rick was saying softly behind him. “She wouldn’t let it go. I figure it’s hers; she can keep it. At least until it turns.” 

“It turns; I’ll handle it,” Daryl snapped harshly. 

 

 

He didn’t know how the fight started. Merle said something that rubbed him the wrong way, obviously, and he was on such a hair trigger he was screaming at his brother about anything that came to mind. He’d yelled something at him about their daddy already, and was currently berating him for letting her out of his sight. 

Never mind that Daryl had been somewhere else as well, and Merle’d done a damn better job of taking care of her and having her back than Daryl’d ever done. 

“What the hell even happened to her? She’s holdin’ Negan’s fuckin’ head, Merle! It’s gonna turn any minute now!” 

“How the goddamn hell should I know, baby brother? Didn’t know she was out there ‘till Rick and Michonne brought her in!” Merle’s voice was an angry snarl, the two of them toe to toe and screaming. Explosions were still sounding, meaning the Saviors hadn’t left yet, but neither Dixon brother seemed to care about keeping quiet. 

“Would both of you just shut the hell up!” Carl yelled, shoving between them, and silence instantly descended the tunnel. 

Daryl was dimly aware of the other Alexandrians, of the children and the non combatants looking on with wide, terrified eyes. Even lil Asskicker looked subdued, leaning into Michonne’s shoulder and watching the two Dixons as she anxiously sucked her thumb. 

Guilt burned like acid down his throat and added to the rolling mess of nausea and fear in his stomach. 

There were tear tracks on Carl’s too-pale face, an echo of Daryl’s own terror in the kid’s eyes. Daryl remembered another day, another time he’d held her hand and hunched over her in the dark after he’d failed to keep her safe. He remembered a kid with more freckles than Carl had now, plus two eyes filled with the same haunted combination of fear and resignation he saw now, hovering in the doorway of the cell and slumping with relief when Daryl’d motioned him inside. He remembered putting a hand on the kid’s shoulder, and not being sure if it was him comforting Carl or Carl comforting him, and an endless-seeming vigil at her bedside. 

It was worse now; after Carl’d lost so much and so many. Daryl reached out and gripped Carl’s shoulder, and Carl nodded. 

“Dammit...” 

His head whipped toward her as Merle snapped, “Ya hear?” 

“Yeah,” Daryl answered, heart in his throat as he moved a little closer to her. “Woman?” 

She didn’t say anything else; didn’t move, even when Daryl and Carl sat down and grabbed her hands. 

 

 

Fuckin’ Dwight wanted them to stay put. Daryl wasn’t having any of that shit. His girl was in a damn sewer, possibly dying. Her forehead was beaded with sweat and she was too damn pale. And she was still bleeding, her life seeping away through the bullet wound in her side. Siddiq had done his best, but Daryl knew this was about as shitty as it came for treating anything. 

Rick was getting things organized for getting them on the move. When the rest of them were on their feet, gear gathered and dispersed, Rick came over to where Daryl, Carl, and Merle were sitting around her. 

Daryl’d already apologized to his brother, again, and Merle had waved him off. That look, the one that had scared the shit out of Daryl as soon as he’d seen his brother in the tunnels, hadn’t left his brother’s face.

“Ok. We’re ready to go. We’re going to use that camp bed she’s on as a stretcher. Tobin and Scott are going to move her, so we can all be ready in case anything happens.” 

Daryl was considering whether he least wanted someone else to be carrying his girl or someone else to be protecting her, but Carl- who evidently hadn’t realized what was going on all around him- exploded. 

“What do you mean you want to move her? Move her where? Have you seen her?” the kid was yelling at his dad, and Daryl kind of got it. She looked rough as hell. 

“We need to get everyone to the Hilltop. The medical trailer there will help her, Carl. We can’t stay here; we’re in the sewer.” Rick’s voice had that reasonable tone he got when he was about two seconds from losing his shit, but Carl was already over that edge. 

“She could die!” The kid screamed, and Daryl flinched and growled. 

“She will die if we don’t get her there!” he snapped, and Carl looked wild. “C’mmon, kid. We’re gonna watch her fuckin’ back, aight? She ain’t dyin’,” he said softly, and Carl swallowed hard and nodded.


	56. Way Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

The trip was a nightmare. The Saviors had blocked every path from Alexandria to the Hilltop, and Rick looked worried as he directed them into the woods. Three quarters of Daryl’s attention was on his girl, who’d crossed the line from looking bad to feverish and delirious. It wasn’t good, and neither were the damn delays. 

Plus, somewhere along the way, the damn head had turned. Daryl’d pulled his knife and tried to pry it from her grip, but she’d started to mumble something, shaking her head no and fighting against him. He’d been forced to give up, settling for tying the thing’s mouth closed so it couldn’t bite her. 

The others had looked at him like he was insane, but he’d shrugged and they’d left it alone. 

When Tara shoved a walker at Dwight, Daryl cussed her up one side and down the other about causing more fuckin’ problems. When he’d reminded her, an inch from her nose, that his girl’s fuckin’ life was at stake, she’d paled and looked away guiltily. 

Good. She should be guilty. 

 

 

His girl whimpered, thrashing now on the camp bed they were hauling. Tara was taking a turn carrying her along with Rick- Tobin and Scott had gone as long as they could, but everyone was tired and they’d been making their way to dead end after dead end for hours already. 

The Saviors had found what was left of Negan, but from what their group had overheard when they’d run into the scouts blocking the passes, fuckin’ Simon had stepped right up and taken command. 

He came closer to her side now, as Tara and Rick lowered her to the ground. Siddiq had been walking right at her side, and Merle had been helping Carl hobble along. The kid was in bad shape on this trek, what with the broken ankle, but between leaning on Daryl’s brother and the stick Daryl’d found and broken for him, he was still going. 

Daryl thought it might have been pure spite that kept the kid moving forward, but he’d take whatever he could get, man. The last thing they needed was someone else they had to carry. 

Now the doc crouched and laid a hand on his girl’s forehead. She whimpered again at his touch, and her eyes shifted rapidly back and forth under her eyelids. Siddiq looked worried as he glanced up at the rest of them. 

“She’s burning up,” he said softly. 

Daryl grunted. “Then we gotta move fuckin’ faster, don’t we?” 

 

 

Of course, that was easier said than done, since every fuckin’ where they turned was blocked. 

Daryl was ready to kill the next group and head on through ‘em, but Rick reminded him just how exhausted and beat up their group was. It was basically just him, Rick, and Tara from their family who were actually in fighting shape. 

So they were going to keep going around. 

“Negan wouldn’t send his people down into this stretch of swamp,” Dwight the asshole said, pointing the map Rick, Daryl, and Merle were hunched over. “Not if he didn’t have to, so Simon won’t either.” 

“Why not?” Daryl snarled. 

“Negan wanted to map the best routes with cover from the Sanctuary to the Hilltop. But he decided the swamp was too dangerous. Simon’s probably going to follow his lead. I mean, I can’t guarantee it, but...” He trailed off with a shrug. 

Daryl stared at him, hard. Tara had been hovering nearby- she was always fuckin’ hovering near the asshole- and she scoffed. 

“You aren’t seriously going to listen to him?” she snapped when Daryl exchanged a look with Rick and Merle. “It’s too dangerous for the Saviors, so you’re gonna send us? Her? Are you kidding me?” 

“Tara has a point,” Tobin chimed in. “Why should we trust him? He could turn on us like he turned on his own people.” 

Dwight’s face was tired and hard as he responded. “I didn’t just turn on ‘em. I killed them. Daryl saw it; Rosita saw it. Tara saw it. I’m not working for them, and I’m not going back to them. I wanted Negan dead. She handled that for me, so I owe her a debt. Plus, Simon’s just as bad as Negan was. You need to win. After that.... well, I know how it ends.” 

Rick touched Daryl’s arm and cocked his head to the side, and Daryl knew this was his choice. He thought for a minute, staring into the trees and chewing on his thumbnail. 

Then his girl started screaming, and Siddiq bent over her as she thrashed. Daryl was at her side in two seconds flat, his brother half a step behind him. She’d stopped screaming, but there were tears leaking from her closed eyes and she was mumbling something over and over. Daryl bent close and his heart stopped. 

“Don’t- where? Daryl- don’t-” 

He ran a hand over his face as the doc gave him a grim look and laid a damp bandanna over her forehead. 

Fuck. 

 

 

“This works, it don’t change shit,” Daryl snarled at Dwight. He and the asshole were in the lead with Rick, with some of the others from Alexandria taking a shift carrying his girl. 

He hated that; that she was with near-strangers and not him, but getting her there was what was important now. Besides, Carl and Merle were near her. That’d have to be good enough. 

“Everything I did, it was for Sherry,” Dwight said simply. “That doesn’t make it right, or that it should be forgiven. But it’s the truth. Only one I got left. She’s the one that let you out; then she ran.” 

“She’s out here?” he asked despite himself. 

“Somewhere,” Dwight agreed. “I hope.”

 

 

They were there. Shit, this wasn’t gonna be good. 

Walkers came rising out of the muck and Daryl knew this was gonna suck ass, as his girl would have said. 

He cast an anxious glance her way as Rick started organizing how the hell this would work. She was still, for the moment, and the doc stayed glued to her side. His brother was sitting on the ground beside her, staring down at her face with that expression that made Daryl’s hands shake. 

He needed his girl to be ok, not just because Daryl needed her so desperately, but also so his brother wouldn’t leave him again and that asshole who wore his face for so many years didn’t come back. 

“I’ll go,” Dwight was volunteering with the air of someone heading to their execution. “If I can have the crossbow, I’ll-” 

“You cain’t. You’ll stay right there,” Daryl snarled. “Come on; let’s get this done!” 

 

 

It was exactly as bad as he’d been afraid of, with a near miss for Rosita and Daryl himself ending up coated in blood, waterlogged decaying flesh, and swamp water. There’d been a particularly rough fight, water up to his waist, as he took on about ten of the fuckers to clear a path to through the shallowest part. Every time he dropped one, another rose up out of the much just in front of him, and he was starting to feel like God was fucking with him at this point. 

And of course, that was when his foot tangled in something as he edged it forward, another asshole rose right in his goddamn face, and Daryl jerked back even when he knew he shouldn’t. 

He toppled over and went under, barely managing to get his eyes and mouth closed before he hit the swamp water. He felt something brush his arm, and he got pissed. 

Hell no. This was not how he was gonna bite the fuckin’ bullet. Submerged in a goddamn swamp while his girl was trying to up and die on him and needed his help? Fuck no. 

He thrashed his way back above water, fingers sinking into the slimy whatever-it-was that had grabbed at his arm, and he pulled it up with him. He shook the water from his hair as he stabbed out and down into the skull of the decaying bastard he was gripping by the throat. 

He tried not to think about how lucky that made him as he heard people screaming his name, the loudest bein’ his brother’s voice. Rick was making his way recklessly to Daryl’s side, pale and with his jaw set in that way that said he feared the worst. Daryl held up the hand with the knife. 

“I’m aight!” he yelled. “Rick, slow the fuck down, asshole. Found a shallow path. Let’s get ‘em through.” 

Rick shot him a look that said the two of them might be fighting again later, but he started paying attention to himself again. Daryl let out a hard exhale and stood still for a moment before turning and slogging back through the swamp toward his girl. 

 

 

Of course Tara’d gone off the fuckin’ rails and tried to kill Dwight. And of course, they’d nearly run themselves right into the Saviors. 

Fact that Rosita and Tara both said Dwight had made them go the other direction didn’t do anything to stop the rage that was coiled up in his gut. So he let it out, standing in Tara’s space. 

“I told you to wait!” he screamed at her. He paced away as she stared him down, eyes hard. “For all we know he could be tellin’ them everything. Simon could be on his way here right now!” 

“He isn’t. He won’t,” Tara said, and just when the hell had she joined that fucker’s damn side? 

“I don’t give a damn what he did! He can stick with them, he come back, hell, he can run. When I find that sonnuva bitch, I’m gonna-” 

His girl cried out at that moment, and Rick stepped into his path. 

Goddamn it. Daryl let out a frustrated yell and kicked at a rock. 

“Shit! C’mmon, people, let’s go!”


	57. Tear at You Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon what cannon?   
> cannon typical violence  
> past rape/non con  
> past psychological abuse  
> brief suicidal thoughts
> 
> Ugh I'm sorry I hate myself and have made myself sad

They made it through without any more incidents, thank Christ; but Daryl’s frayed nerves weren’t getting any better. His girl was getting worse. 

Daryl was carrying her now, curled in his arms, because she’d been thrashing around so damn much she’d nearly fallen off the stretcher several times. The doc was at his side, clearly worried, and Daryl was about to lose his damn mind. 

But the gates of Hilltop swung open and he came striding through, Rick at his side. Even the relief he felt when he saw Carol come running toward them didn’t help or even slow him down. He went straight for the trailer, pushing past Carol and Maggie and Enid without a word. 

 

 

His girl was screaming as Siddiq worked on her, wordlessly at first. That was bad enough, but then she started calling their names. 

Everyone in crowded into the trailer went completely and utterly still as she cried out for them one by one, head whipping from side to side. Daryl’s stomach rolled, hard, and he swallowed down the sick feeling to look at the doc and ask what he needed. 

“I’m about to clean and stitch closed this gunshot. She’s going to fight,” the doc said, his voice soft but firm. 

“Fuck,” Daryl whispered, knowing what that meant. “Doc, holdin’ her down...” 

He trailed off and closed his eyes, because there was nothing to be done for it. It was going to have to be done, but he knew. God, he knew what it would do to her, and she wasn’t going to be able to wake up. 

“Easy, little brother,” Merle whispered, putting a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl opened his eyes and looked down at his hands. They were clenched so tightly around her belt, held in his hands, Daryl’s entire hand was white under the layer of dirt. 

“Merle-” he said, but that was all he could get out as he looked at his brother wildly. 

“I know, baby brother. I know. But-” Merle shrugged helplessly. 

Siddiq looked between them. “I understand this will be traumatic for her and you, but it must be done.” 

“You understand nothin’!” Daryl snarled, and Carl put a hand on Siddiq’s arm and whispered in the doc’s ear. The doctor’s expression never changed, but he nodded. 

“Yes, I can see that. I have to deal with this wound. I need your help,” he said, looking the three of them in the eyes. 

“I’ll do it,” Rick said, shaking his head and passing a hand wearily over his face. 

“Naw. I got it,” Daryl snapped, but Merle squeezed his shoulder again. Daryl slumped. “I- I have to. But I could use the help,” he said quietly, meeting Rick’s eyes, and Rick nodded. 

 

 

Daryl held her down. He leaned over his girl and held her arms pinned to her sides and kept her still. Rick held her legs, and she struggled against them. She struggled and she screamed when the doc started stitching and Daryl was already sweating and crying from the effort of not killing the doc and Rick and hell, himself. 

Merle was at his side, at her side, talking to him and to her and trying to keep them both calm. Daryl wasn’t listening, because suddenly she was sobbing, and all the fight went out of her. Her mouth opened soundlessly and her breathing became sharp and shallow, and tears were running down her face.

Then she started begging, pleading for him to let her go, and Daryl screamed in rage and set his face on her shoulder as he held her down. If he’d looked at her, he’d have let her go; need be damned. 

“Please don’t; please don’t. Please, I wasn’t flirting with him. He was just being nice, bagging our groceries; please, baby, you know I love you. I’d never- no, no, I don’t want you to- I don’t- Let me go! Let me up! No; don’t- I didn’t mean- I- No! No! It’s Georgia and it’s summer, baby; it’s just hot! Come on, you know I wouldn’t- no no no no no-” 

She trailed off into indecipherable mumbles and sobs, and no one was making a sound. Daryl was pretty sure he was dying, and she’d gone so still beneath him; a stillness he knew from after the Governor, when Hershel had stitched her up and Daryl’d whispered brokenly into her ear as she’d screamed out the pain and never moved a muscle. 

If this went on for much longer he was going to put a bullet in brain, because he could feel the coiled tremble in her muscles under him and he knew what she was reliving. 

“You can let go now; it’s done,” the doc said into the silence, and Daryl flung himself off of her and backed away, walking to the wall and slamming his fist into it over and over. He didn't look at any of his gathered family, and they didn't make a sound.

 

 

He stopped when she started mumbling again, this time frantic and harsh. 

“No- I need those, damn it; I’ve got to kill him. I’ve got to kill the bastard, for what he did to me; do you see? Do you know? You can’t have them. You can’t!” 

He sucked in a hard breath, trying to calm down, and turned. Carl was trying to pry the head from her grip again, tears on his face and something wild and broken in it. 

“Just let ‘er keep the damn thing!” Daryl roared, and he didn’t recognize his own voice. He was back at his girl’s side and he didn’t remember moving, gripping Carl’s wrist as he turned that devastated, incredulous look Daryl’s way. 

“Are you serious? It’s-” 

“I know what it is! Do you hear her? You know where she thinks she is right now? Leave it!" he snapped, and his voice broke finally. He turned away from Carl and sank down to his knees beside his girl, pressing his forehead against hers as he stroked her hair with a shaking hand. 

“It’s aight, woman; I’m here. You ain't there, you're here with me, and he's dead,” he whispered softly, gripping her arm lightly and praying harder than he ever had in his life. 

 

 

He was exhausted. He had his head on the pillow beside her, his fingers in her hair and his other hand on her arm. Someone had brought over a chair, and he’d collapsed into it and held her while the doc did his thing on her leg and checked the rest of her over. 

She’d fallen quiet, and Daryl was damn grateful. Maybe the worst of it was over. Now he was half-asleep, only dimly aware of what was going on around him. He knew the others were still there; knew his brother was at his back, pacing restlessly. Carl was sitting on the other side of her bed, and Rick was talking to someone in that urgent Rick voice. 

Daryl was drifting, only awake by a thread, when he heard her voice. 

“Dixon....” she murmured, and he shot up, his hand shaking as he touched her face. 

“YN? Hey! Hey, doc! I heard- she said-” he stammered, words tripping over themselves as he tried to get them out hastily. 

Siddiq stepped back to her side from where he’d moved over to look at Merle’s arm, and Daryl felt a stab of guilt for not even considering anyone else's injuries. But his girl had said his name again. 

The doc grabbed a flashlight and clicked it on, lifting one of his girl’s eyelids and flicking the light over to see the change in her pupil. 

She started screaming again, and Daryl shoved up and away, taking three steps over to the trashcan at the door and throwing up into it.


	58. The First To Ruin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon what cannon?   
> cannon typical violence  
> past rape/non con  
> past abuse  
> suicidal thoughts
> 
> I swear I like them. Really.

Doc said they had to wait, just wait, for the fever to break. 

Shit. 

Daryl wasn’t too damn good at waiting. 

 

Rick made the others leave, finally. Since there wasn’t anything more they could do. Soon enough, it was just him and Merle and Daryl’s girl, the doc having gone to grab a shower while she was quiet for the moment. 

Daryl fell asleep at her side. 

 

 

He woke up to her crying out again, jerking upright and looking up to see his brother crying and touching her face as it contorted in pain. 

“It’s ok, Maggie. It’s ok; I’m saving you; don’t worry. Merle’s coming, remember? Merle- Merle?” She shot out a short scream when she flailed and hit herself in the side with her elbow, and Merle flinched and looked at Daryl with questioning eyes. 

“Should we try’n wake her up, baby brother?” 

Daryl shook his head, scrubbing at his own tear-filled eyes. He could guess what she was dreaming about now. “Naw. Won’t do any good; it’s fever. She cain’t wake up even if she wants to.” 

“Fuck.” Merle’s voice cracked and he turned away, drawing in a deep breath. 

Then Daryl’s girl whimpered and went rigid, and Daryl gripped her arm hard, wishing for the thousandth time that he could pry the damn head away from her. Having Negan’s undead eyes looking up at him made him want to puke. Again. 

“No- what? 'M'not- s’pposed to be here- Merle’s s’posed- Where- Why? Merle? Where are you? S’posed to come save me now...” She trailed off for a second and Daryl looked up at his brother, his heart aching, as she called out for Merle again. 

Merle’s face was white and hard, his eyes closed, and Daryl saw the tears. Then his brother leaned over his girl, his voice shattered, and started whispering to her. 

“Hey, hey, baby sister. C'mmon now; settle down, darlin'. Ya ain't needing savin' from nothing right now, sugar; it's all in your head. Go on and wake up for me now, girlie, aight? Please, girl; break ol' Merle's heart screaming out for me like that."

She stopped shaking her head back and forth, her rapid shallow breaths hitching for a minute, and then she relaxed, her face smoothing out even as her body settled. 

Daryl touched Merle’s shoulder with a trembling hand and found his brother was shaking just as badly as he was. 

“Ain’t gonna live through this if she keeps that up, little brother,” Merle said softly, and Daryl laughed without any humor at all. 

“Me neither.” 

 

Hours passed with more of the same. She’d be quiet for awhile, then some dream or memory or hallucination would grab her and she’d be yelling or whimpering or mumbling, Daryl and Merle growing more and more haggard every time she screamed their names. 

Their people drifted in and out, everyone checking in on her and them. Rick gave them updates from the foot of her bed while she was quiet, his eyes full of guilt as he looked at her. Daryl knew Rick was beating himself up for running when Negan chucked him through the window, but hell, Daryl didn’t blame Rick for this. 

“Ain’t your fault, man,” he said abruptly, interrupting whatever it was Rick was saying. Daryl wasn’t really listening anyway. Rick’s eyes shot to him and his jaw tightened. 

“I shouldn’t have run.” 

Daryl shook his head. “Naw. Ain’t your fault. None of it.” 

Rick sighed. “Look, Daryl, I know you’ve got more important things on your mind-” 

“Brother, don’t,” Daryl interrupted, standing and stepping over to Rick. “Don’t apologize to me. You were right. I knew you were right as soon as I left. She talked some sense into me too, in case I hadn’t gotten there on my own. Just want our people safe, is all. Know that’s all you want, too. We good?” 

Rick nodded, and reached for Daryl. Daryl let Rick hug him, slapping Rick’s back when he pulled away. 

Then he took his girl’s hand again and waited some more. 

 

“No! Don’t you- touch Daryl and I’ll fuckin’ kill you, ya bastard!” 

Daryl snapped awake again as she snarled the words out, her eyes open but utterly sightless. She jerked the arm that held Negan’s damn head, and sat halfway up before Daryl caught her shoulders. 

“Hey, woman, settle. Settle. Ain’t nothin’ happening needs you up like this,” Daryl murmured, easing her back down. She went, suddenly compliant, her eyes falling closed as she turned her head just a bit toward the sound of his voice. 

“Daryl?” she murmured, and sighed. “Dixon...” 

“Yeah, woman, I’m here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

“Found you. Safe.” 

The knife in his heart twisted. ‘Course she was dreaming about looking out for him. 

“I’m fine, woman. So’re you. Rest.” 

 

They’d gotten to Hilltop with the sun, and a full day and another night had crept by while he sat with his girl. He was starting to think she’d never wake up, and he knew without a doubt what he’d do if she didn’t. 

Wasn’t worth it, this world, if she weren’t in it with him. 

There’d been a few more councils of war in the room with her, since neither he or Merle were willing to leave. Carl had been in and out the most, never able to stay long when she started screaming or crying out. Merle or Daryl or the doc would take a look at the kid’s face and gently usher him out. 

Kid had too much shit in his life to be able to handle watching someone he loved like that, and Daryl didn’t blame him. He was teenager for fuck’s sake. Daryl was a grown-ass man and it was breaking him into a thousand piece to watch her suffer. 

He’d contributed to the war council some, at least he thought, and Merle had been heavily involved, but Daryl honestly didn’t know what decisions had been made. He was so damn tired and so damn focused on her; the world was starting to take on a grey tinge and it blurred a some when he moved to fast. 

He made the mistake of mentioning that out loud, and every fuckin’ body had ganged up on him. Only thing that made it better was that they’d ganged up on Merle, too, bullying them both until they’d agreed to go get showers and eat something, at the very least. They wanted him to take a damn nap, too, but he wouldn’t fucking agree to that. 

Carl had offered to sit with her, but they’d both known how that would have gone if she’d started struggling again. Daryl’s eyes had narrowed, but Ninja Jesus had put a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’d like to sit with her awhile. Please?” the guy had said, and Daryl’d nodded. 

 

He showered fast, or at least he’d intended to. He might have fallen asleep under the spray. He found clean clothes when he got out, with his vest on top, and he dressed and shoved a hand roughly through his hair. Then he was heading back toward the trailer, anger growing with every step. 

How could she have done this? How could she have thrown herself in front of danger yet again? 

Didn’t she know what it’d do to him if she died? 

It wasn’t fair and he fuckin’ knew it. He was just so tired of them not being safe. So tired of the lump of fear in his throat, the hand gripping his heart. He needed this to be over, damn it, and he was regretting not trying to end it himself in spite of everything. 

He threw open the door, already growling before he got through it into the building, turning his glare toward the ninja and- 

She was sitting up, eyes open, and she was grinning at him. 

What the fucking hell?


	59. On the Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of past abuse  
> mentions of past rape/non con  
> PTSD type nightmares  
> throwing up; if that icks you, it's mentioned a couple times.   
> semi-suicidal thoughts

She didn’t stay awake for long, falling asleep in his arms while they were discussing what had happened and what to do. He held her while the others trickled out, each of them giving him a relieved smile and a touch on the shoulder. 

He’d have held her the whole time, just to have her so reassuringly close. The doc came in after a bit, though, and needed to check the gunshot, so he had to slip out from under her and let her lay down on her own. 

He collapsed into a chair at her side, holding her hand while the doc did his thing. She stirred a little, making a pained face as the doc worked and letting out a tiny whimper. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles absently and watched the doc anxiously. 

“It looks good,” Siddiq murmured, re-taping the bandage. “And with the fever broken, now she just needs to rest and heal.” 

“Thanks, doc,” Daryl said wearily, and bent over her hand. 

 

The nightmares started moments later, and they were bad. 

The first wasn’t awful; he supposed. It was better than the fever dreams had been; just her stiffening and making that tiny sound he remembered from nights spent in an impossibly small tent in Georgia. 

The second was worse, with her face distorting as she jerked and flinched from whatever was happening. With both, he was able to soothe her back to sleep with a few whispered words in her ear and a touch on her cheek. 

Then he couldn’t. 

There were only so many times Daryl could hear his name or his brother’s or Rick’s or Carl’s or Maggie’s or anyone’s ripped out of his girl’s lungs or whispered brokenly or cried out in confusion. There were only so many times he could hear her whimper or sob or half-scream in terror and pain. There were only so many times he could hear her beg and plead for someone to stop; for her own innocence; for safety for herself or even worse for someone else. 

Daryl was fraying apart at the seams, being slowly pried into pieces with every flinch, every twitch, every noise she made. 

Finally, he snapped, after a particularly gut wrenching one where she screamed his name and pleaded for him to stop. He didn’t know what she wanted him not to do, but he couldn’t- he couldn’t handle hearing himself be the bad guy in her nightmares. Not with what he knew was happening in so many of them. 

He got up and walked away, going outside the trailer for only the second time since he’d reached Hilltop. 

 

Outside, he’d thrown up in the grass, heaving until there was nothing left inside him. Then he sank down to his knees and seriously considered stabbing his knife through his own skull, if it would just make her stop. Make it all stop for her. 

He couldn’t face going back in there. God help him; he couldn’t do it. 

He wanted to drink himself unconscious and forget everything that had happened since he heard Negan’s voice over the loudspeaker. Hell, he wanted to forget everything that had happened since he first heard the name Negan. Fuck it, if he was doing wishful thinking, he wanted to forget all the way back to the damn prison falling. 

Yeah, that was far enough back. Maybe if he could forget all that, he’d forget the way her voice sounded as she begged for help. Or the way her eyes looked when they opened but she was still asleep. Or the fact that she could never, would never, promise him to stay out of danger, because the fact was? She’d be right there again, as soon as she was on her feet. 

“I cain’t- I cain’t do it anymore, Rick,” he said brokenly when he heard the footsteps. He knew the way Rick walked. 

“Daryl. You think she wants you to do this to yourself? Get some rest, brother,” Rick answered, sinking down beside where Daryl slumped. “Merle’s in there with her. If he needs a break, I’ll go. Jesus. Maggie. We’ll all watch over her. She won’t be alone.” 

“Should be me,” Daryl whispered. “She’s mine.” 

“Yeah, little brother, she’s yours,” his brother’s tired voice agreed. “But don’t mean she ain’t ours, too. Gonna need ya soon, baby bro. Fight ain’t over yet. Don’t know when it’s gonna come, so ya better go rest up while ya can. We got her.” 

Daryl rose after a moment, not looking at either of them. Guilt gnawed at him from the inside out, but- he couldn’t go back in there. Not yet. 

“Where can I go? Just need a few hours.”


	60. Could Not Hold You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

She and Merle had come up with a plan during the night. His brother told him she’d had one hell of a nightmare, and Daryl’d come into the trailer in the early morning to see his brother sitting up in the bed, asleep, his girl’s head on his shoulder. She was sleeping, too, and Daryl thought about train cars and guilt. 

This time, he just felt grateful. 

She bitched him into letting her get up and walk around, teasing Rick and asking to assemble ‘the usual suspects’. Five minutes on her feet and she was already back to work. 

He couldn’t deny it was a good fuckin’ plan, though. Required some prep work that he had to help with, and he reluctantly parted ways with her, with a hard kiss and stern directions to rest and not do anything. 

He figured there was at least a one in ten thousand shot she’d listen to him. 

 

When the horns sounded, he made his way to his bike, waved to his brother, and grabbed the little ninja who was supposed to go with him. Jesus told him his girl was fine and really would do what she was told. 

Daryl chose to believe him and headed into the woods to wait. 

 

They sprung the trap, the ninja dived off the bike, and Daryl did some killing. He met up with his brother for step three- bracing for it to go wrong- and almost shot Dwight the asshole in cold blood. 

He thought about what she’d said, though, about rebuilding things. Thought about a conversation in Georgia on an old man’s farm about sustainability and order and government. Thought about her, not shooting Shane and not letting him shoot Shane either. 

“Damn it,” he’d muttered, and started accepting surrenders. 

 

 

And of course she was missing when they got in the house. Michonne and Carl were about to go looking for her, but he and Merle made the kid stay put. They picked up Rick along the way, who looked about as pissed as Daryl felt. 

They wandered further back into Barrington House, Daryl calling her name every few doors. He didn’t give a shit about caution. She was beat to hell and back and then went and did something else stupid. Like not take any damn backup. 

“Dixon?” he heard, and the four of them moved a little faster. 

 

 

He came around the corner and saw the body first, then Jesus looking more than a little freaked out. Then he focused on her. 

He knew what she’d done immediately, flashing back to a dark road and a bunch of assholes he’d been running with because Beth was gone. He felt the hot fear for her and the drowning relief that he’d found her again, alive. 

Then the shock when Rick ripped Joe’s fuckin’ throat out and she slit the fat prick on top of Carl’s throat as well. That’d been a brutal night, easily one of the worst and best nights of Daryl’s life. That happened more than someone might think; one night making both lists. 

“Fuck, woman. What the hell happened?” he asked, knowing she’d give some flippant answer. He was actually looking forward to hearing what it would be. He wasn’t disappointed. 

“There was a scuffle. Arat got too close, so I had to take a page from Cowboy’s book. Bit her throat out.” 

Shit. She had blood everywhere- around her mouth, down her throat and her shirt, smeared along her arm. He was laughing with his brother, oddly proud of her. He was thinking maybe this was something like the way she reacted to shit after a while, a semi-panicked hysteria that he’d never really understood until now. 

“Dixons get shit done,” his brother proclaimed, and all three of them were laughing. 

 

 

It was another day and a half, a few crises, and a couple of long trips before he was finally able to get her alone again. He’d told his brother that under no circumstances was he to come back to the trailer for at least three hours, and the asshole’d laughed, clapped him on the back, and made his usual suggestions. 

Daryl pondered both killing him and simply cutting off his other hand, but settled on walking away and flipping him the bird. Merle’d yelled after him to save that for his girl. 

“Watch out though, little brother, she bites!” He’d added, full volume, and laughed. Daryl hadn’t been laughing, though it had been kind of funny. 

She would have laughed, and he knew it. 

She was sleeping when he got in there, her hair tangled and spread out all over the pillow, one hand holding a book and the other tucked under her cheek. He took a minute to stare before he woke her up with a kiss and told her Merle's joke.

She laughed.


	61. Sun Tries You So Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon is a myth

He wasn’t surprised when Rick asked them to go to the Sanctuary. He knew she’d fight it, but he’d already put thought into it himself, and Rick was right. They were the best options. 

She was the best option. 

When Merle wanted to go as well, he could have celebrated. He didn’t know if either of them could have gone without him. Dixons stick together, after all.

 

She’d told them to give away all of Negan’s shit except the bed. That she wanted burned. Even knowing nothing happened in that damn thing but the bastard making her sleep beside him, Daryl agreed with that decision one hundred percent. He and Merle burned it themselves, and stood around trading sips from a bottle until she came out and scowled at them. 

Daryl’d tossed an arm around her and offered a toast to their new home. She’d taken the bottle and thrown it on the fire, heading back inside while Merle cackled. 

So it began. 

 

They tried to make it work there. His girl worked night and day, bent over a desk in front of the huge windows, outside in the courtyard, on the factory floor. She spoke to every person in the Sanctuary, getting to know them and their situation and history in detail. 

She made plans and scrapped plans and tried. 

It just didn’t work. The people wanted to live. There were bad seeds, and they were dealt with according to the laws she and the rest of the new Council had written and signed into agreement. But for the most part, the people wanted to live and thrive. 

The place wasn’t good for it. 

 

 

He talked to Rick before she did, seeing the way the dice were going to roll. Rick fought it, hard, but when she finally approached him, he’d conceded that she was right.

It was like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. She was happy and smiling again, and he knew she’d been drowning there. He didn’t know if it was the weight of responsibility, the stress of looming failure, or just that place in particular, but she’d been dying slowly. He didn’t see how bad it had gotten until it was gone, and then he and Merle had a private conversation and made some plans of their own. 

 

When Alexandria was finished, they locked the Sanctuary fences and left on a two-week trip all on their own. 

The three of them made their way south into the Carolinas, gathering supplies, killing walkers, looking for people. Mostly just blowing off steam and having fun. 

They found a sporting goods store somewhere south of Raleigh and they'd about lost their minds. Guns, ammo, protein bars that were somehow still good, MREs and camping gear. His girl built about forty emergency packs and sat there with hydration bags and first aid kits and other shit he'd heard her bitch about maybe ten thousand times and laughed her ass off, wiping tears from her face as she howled about how 'fucking goddamn useful this shit would have been a year or two ago.' 

Then they'd broken into the paintball supplies and lit each other up. They brought some back for Carl and some of the other kids, and they'd brought every single fuckin' arrow and bow they could jam into the van with them. They'd been covered in splattered paint and bruises, all three of them really way too good of shots to be doing shit like that. 

But she was grinning from ear to ear and his brother was laughing like a maniac diving from display to display. She'd been a tiger, stalking them silent and deadly. Merle'd been a clown, just in it for the thrill. Hell, half the time he didn't follow the damn rules anyway. Daryl'd spent more time watching them play than anything else, and he had the most paint on him by the time they were done. 

She'd even killed the one walker who wandered in while they lost it by shooting enough paint balls at it's head to drive through the skull and into the brain, hitting the same mark over and over again and then screaming and whooping in victory when it worked. 

 

Somewhere near the ocean, they’d broken into a Walmart and taken every single condom and every single box of hair dye they could find. It'd been a bitter fuckin' battle to get in there; on an island where the bridge onto it was blocked there'd been no escape from the dead, and somehow all of them had ended up in Walmart. 

It'd been stupid and reckless and they'd had a few near misses they didn't tell anyone about, but it was worth it to sit on the roof in stolen beach chairs and see his girl in a bikini in the sunshine, throwing inflatable beach balls that she made him or Merle blow up for her into the crowd of walkers below. 

There was no real reason behind stealing the hair dye, like there'd been no real reason behind any of it. It just made her laugh. When they came back and she had bright ass blue hair and an epic sunburn, Carl had stared for a full two minutes before laughing uncontrollably.


	62. Found In Love

Maggie’s baby was born shortly after that, and his girl had been by her side along with Carol and Tara and Rosita. Hell, all of them had been there, the family gathered at Hilltop for a reunion. But his girl had held Maggie’s hand and coached her through it, and she’d come out to tell them all with tears on her cheeks and a look in her eyes Daryl didn’t quite know what to do with. 

 

“Dixon?” she’s said a couple months later, laying in bed and looking at the latest picture Maggie’d sent with Jesus. 

“Yeah, woman?” He was folding laundry, and don’t ask him how he’d gotten conned into that shit, man, because he did not know. She had him and Merle doing regular chores around the place, and he really wasn’t sure how that had happened. Couldn’t deny that fair was fair, though. 

“Ever think about it?” she asked, tone so casual it set his teeth on edge immediately. 

“Think about what?” 

“Well... having a baby,” she whispered. 

Something old and sad shot through him. There’d been a baby, once. He looked at her and she was looking at him, tears in her eyes as well. She remembered. 

She hadn’t wanted one then. Looking back on everything they’d been through since then- the prison falling, the Claimers, Terminus, the Saviors, the war- he couldn’t blame her. They’d never have been able to do everything they’d done if there’d been a baby around to keep an eye on. 

“Sometimes,” he answered her finally. “Don’t know how good a dad I’d be, though. Considering.” 

She snorted. “Considering what? Dixon, you’re the best parent in this group. You took care of little Ass-kicker from day one.” 

“I called her little Ass-kicker, woman. Don’t exactly scream poetry,” he shot back, laughing at himself. She grinned back at him. 

“Seriously, though. I wasn’t ready, before. In the prison. And while I’m sad whenever I think about whoever that little one might have been, it’s- not good, not really, but-” she waved a hand in frustration and he grabbed it, twinning his fingers with hers. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said gently. She held on tight to his hand and looked at him shyly. 

“I might be ready now,” she said. 

He eyed her, suspicion growing. “You’re pregnant, ain’t ya?”

She looked shocked. “How the hell-” 

He threw his head back and laughed, pulling her into his arms and kissing her, hard. 

Fuckin’ perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End. 
> 
> Screaming massive thank yous to everyone who read this ridiculously long self-indulgent fic of mine. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it! Every kudos and comment and bookmark means the world to me!


End file.
